#the buildup really HAS been for months
Photo
releasing MORE of my parable congestion built up over MONTHS for #sexynarratorsweep, if perhaps you celebrate
( the always-gorgeous stanley design & coloring credit for the third & fourth pieces of course goes to @tomi-chuu )
#uwu art#The Stanley Parable#The Stanley Parable Ultra Deluxe#Stanarrator#liminal spaces cw#sorren dont look#cw liminal spaces#TSP Narrator#TSP Stanley#the buildup really HAS been for months#i think the latest thing here is the ' i know i'm a wolf ' piece which made tommy explode#YEAH A LOT OF THIS IS OUT OF CONTEXT#the first image is also indeed a tsp x spooky month edit i did#done i think a few weeks after THAT dropped? so again. this has been Waiting#AND THERE'S STILL MORE I HAVE. SO MUCH
764 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love being insane and rambling/loredumping for over an hour in a voice note about a niche thing in the lore/world of my nonexistent book that will probably never come up and is probably not important to the story at all that I know of because I haven't really started writing it yet besides two chapters and some snippets that were like a few years ago because I cannot be bothered to do research for a different WIP that is not even past the basic stages (the real inciting incident hasn't even happened) bc it's not a current priority before finishing the first draft that I have been working on for the last four years or the first draft of the other WIP I've been working on since the year two thousand and sixteen.
#just writer things#truly hate my brain sometimes like why am I getting trivia for a book I have barely written like 2#20K* words for like I haven't even opened the doc for it in like 8 months and I haven't actually added anything for over 2 years now so.#I don't even have any particular plans to get to it until I at least finish the 2 WIPs I'm working on rn—#which includes one I've been writing the first draft for since 2018 and a basically done first draft of a WIP from like 2016#both are missing the 3rd act bc I suck at writing cliamxes + my writing style for either books isn't suited for that so it'll take a while#like the 2016 one is at 120K words and literally only needs 1 more chapter and an epilogue so maybe like 20K more words.#there's supposed to be a big climactic battle which intersects the stories of approximately 25 named characters until the actual climax#which is another battle but more small scale but also more epic bc it's personal and magical#and I've literally already written the second battle but the buildup to the first fight is hard and so is the actual battle#then there's the WIP that's haunted me for the last 4ish years which is at 160K of an expected 200-220K and is entirely missing the 3rd act#like I have some stuff written and I did plan a structure for a bunch of the main plot stuff bc the book takes place over a strict timeline#but like the actual climax is mostly missing like I have the ending written. the ending is fully done.#I've had it written and planned for a WHILE bc it's supposed to lead into a future story and it has to happen this way#but idk how to get there just yet with a cast of almost 50 named characters to keep track of and 6 'main' plots although it's really 3#like it's a lot to balance bc I prefer writing with larger casts and just getting things done is so hard#bc I physically can't do 'write later' to stuff bc those are some of the most important interactions to me and idk how characters act if—#I don't have those written precisely. it's sort of a story about the effects of the mundane. I literally can't 'write details later' this.#and in the middle of this nightmare — a 4 month writing drought — my brain in like 'here's a bunch of shit about a third story'#god sometimes I simply hate my brain#anyway yeah lol#truly just writer things#owad#anyway guess this is me sort of pivoting back to vomiting about writing on this blog#writbelr#writblr#james rambles#James yells in the tags
1 note
·
View note
Text
@scooprtroopr ur tags on this post inspired a lil something and well, here you go friend <3 / also omg this fits for @steddie-week’s prompt pining! tehe / you can also read it over on ao3 :)
Steve gets that this is how karma works.
You do something bad, you don’t have the best intentions, you trample on one or two people’s feelings selfishly, yadda yadda. Then what do you know? Next month, it’s happening to you. What goes around comes around, right?
That’s how karma works. Steve gets that.
And yet, the sting in the morning when another hookup has crept out in the night feels so goddamn unshakeable. It slices through his ego, hitting every feeling on the way, and cuts right down the bone, and it hurts.
But it’s karma though, Steve knows that. He’s left a girl more than once or twice, and snuck back out the window he had crept into. Stumbled back to his car in the early morning hours.
(Steve pointedly ignores the old part of him that was- is so hesitant to stay — after the iciness of his first ever hookup, who had wrinkled her nose at the thought of him staying the night.
Who had patted him on the cheek in a near condescending way, a girl the year above him, and said, “Don’t overstay your welcome, yeah?”)
So when the other side of the bed is empty when he wakes, he knows he’s lost another game of ‘who can sneak out on who?’
Which Steve hates — it’s why he stopped going over to his dates house and instead started bringing them back to his. Hoping they might read that his invitation to stay the night extended right out til breakfast. Hell, til lunch if they wanted.
No one has come close to overstaying their welcome in the Harrington house.
Empty sheets rip a new ache in Steve’s chest and he groans, a pitiful noise because— of course, he hasn’t stayed.
Karma has the biggest bone to pick with Steve Harrington and he was really hoping it would be done after all these years. Evidently not.
But… Steve can’t help how much more this one hurts because this one was Eddie.
Steve tries to not let regret coil in his gut. Rolling over he buries his face into his pillow, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to think it over logically. Rationally. Ignores the burning in his throat.
Maybe he’s a fool for thinking Eddie would be different from the past.
But the buildup — before there had been flirting, there had been friendship, proper company between the two of them where there were no expectations. That may very well be due to the fact both of them were dudes but… Steve was so sure. So much of him believed Eddie would still be here when he woke up.
Steve huffs a loud sigh into the pillow. Pretends his chest doesn’t hurt a little bit.
“It’s fine,” He murmurs to himself, voice thick with sleep. His fists clench into the sheets for a moment. “It’s fine.”
He drags himself up and out of bed. Tugs on some stray sweats hanging over the back of his desk chair and ducks into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy, Steve eyes the shower through the reflection. He should, probably, but he might get stuck on a loop in there.
Where did he go wrong this time? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t any of them stay? Why did—
Steve splashes cold water on his face instead, rubbing probably a bit too forcefully at his eyes. He spies the faint pink shape of Eddie’s lips, a mark left on his neck. His fingers grace over it lightly, softly, like a lover would.
Memories hazed with lust remind him of how it had got there, Eddie’s body on his, Eddie’s hands in his hair, Eddie— without thinking, Steve scrubs at the skin harshly. He wishes it wasn’t there. Wishes there wasn’t any remnant of Eddie left behind.
Steve doesn’t need any mementos to remind him he’s been left behind again.
He needs food, needs to get on with his day, Steve decides. The bathroom door swings closed behind him and Steve tries his best to wrangle his thoughts as he wanders out to the top of the stairs.
A run. That’s what he needs to clear his head. A long run til his heart is pounding in his chest so hard it hurts, til his muscles start burning, breathes coming too fast and his head is finally fucking quiet. Yep, that’s precisely what he needs to shake the sting of last night.
Steve’s so enwrapped in his head, thoughts swirling, that he get manages to get halfway down the hall to the kitchen before he hears the radio. It’s not loud, just enough to carry out the kitchen. Strange. He doesn’t remember leaving it on last night.
His feet carry him into the kitchen, another yawn creeping up and he rubs at his eyes, blinking a bit blearily and— and stops in his tracks. There’s someone at the stove.
Eddie’s at the stove.
Standing in the morning sunlight, hair lighter than ever, puckered scars along his arms standing out. He’s clearly ransacked Steve’s drawers, a pair of Steve’s plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips, his own softened band tee from yesterday still on. It’s had its sleeves hacked off, the fabric curling up into little rolls. Steve feels his stomach rise halfway up his throat, his hopes going with it. His heart does a strange stumbling pitter-patter.
He must make a noise because suddenly Eddie’s peaking over his shoulder and smiling at him.
“Hey,” Eddie says, shifting a bit to turn more toward him. Steve can see that he’s cooking, something delicious wafting up from the sizzling pan. His chest tightens, pure surprise wrapping around his sternum and gripping - so much, he can’t control the expression on his face.
“Hi,” Steve breathes. He’s still frozen where he is. He stayed. Steve blinks, taking in the scene before him; Eddie has clearly been puttering around, putting together some sort of breakfast. He fucking stayed and he’s cooking.
Eddie takes it the wrong way. He skittishly looks over the benches, covered in his mess, and tugs on the ends of his hair nervously. “I- it’s a mess, I know, I’m real sorry. I was gonna clean it, I just thought you might like…”
He trails off, unable to get a read on Steve’s expression. Steve doesn’t blame him but he can’t fucking stop his chest from feeling like it’s being pulled open, his heart from feeling like it’s soaring. He huffs an awed laugh, a smile curling at his lips.
Eddie deflates a bit in his relief, giving his own smile. He turns back to the stove quickly, giving the skillet a bit of a shake to keep it from burning and Steve draws closer, feet finally moving. Eddie watches him from the corner of his eye, barely biting back his grin as Steve gets closer. He hovers, feels the heat of Eddie’s back they’re so close.
He tries to feel brave — he stayed — and keeps his closeness, peering over Eddie’s shoulder at the skillet on the stove. It’s the Munson Special that Eddie’s cooked a few times for him over at the trailer; eggs, potatoes, shit tons of cheese, maybe a vegetable if he’s feeling healthy.
“Was gonna bring it to you in bed, but,” Eddie laughs, still tinged in nervousness. He sets down the spatula to tuck his hair behind both ears, glancing sideways at Steve as if trying to understand his silence.
He stayed and he cooked and he’s nervous. Steve thinks he might be holding his breath in disbelief, head dizzy with relief. With affection.
Very slowly, Steve’s hands move and, like he’s waiting for Eddie to flinch away, settles then very gently onto Eddie’s waist. His fingers curl into the soft fabric and Eddie makes a little chirp of happiness and leans back.
Leans into Steve a bit, like he wants his touch the morning after everything and Steve releases a shuddering breath, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. His hands grow a little more bold, sliding around to hug him around the middle.
Eddie’s cheeks have turned pink and his grin hasn’t faltered.
“Made me—” Steve starts, but his voice is a bit raspy. He clears his throat, avoids Eddie’s burning stare. “Y’made me breakfast?”
Eddie nods, his curls brushing against Steve’s cheek as he does. His tummy is warm beneath Steve’s hand and his hair smells good and Steve just wants to burrow into him- he tucks himself closer and is rewarded with a content noise from Eddie.
“That’s not weird, is it?” Eddie asks suddenly, picking up the spatula again and beginning to fiddle needlessly with the food. He flips it once, then again, so it’s on the same side as it was before.
He sounds a bit sheepish when he says, “I’m not sure- I haven’t ever really— I’m actually just gonna shut the hell up before I say anything stupid.”
Steve laughs quietly. His hands tighten around Eddie’s middle, head tilting so he can bury his grin into his shoulder— his heart is going haywire, going a million miles an hour, because karma is finally through with Steve Harrington and he gets to have this.
“S’not weird,” Steve mumbles. He thinks about pressing a kiss into Eddie’s shoulder.
“Ha, you said snot,” Eddie retorts with a childish snort and Steve can’t help it, he laughs at that too, muffled laughter into his t-shirt. Then he presses a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, quick as lightning. Rests his chin back on it like nothing happened.
Eddie still stiffens just a bit- turns his head just a bit to glance at Steve and fuck, Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops.
Because Eddie softens him unbearably with those nervous brown eyes, his pink lips twisted as he tries to hold back his grin. Steve’s beginning to understand that both of them seem equally surprised that this is happening.
Eddie’s free hand moves, pausing only briefly in a moment's hesitance, before it covers one of Steve’s on his tummy. It’s cold, much colder than Steve’s, and he covers it with one of his own instinctively.
Eddie’s trembling fingers give him a little squeeze. Steve thinks he must be able to feel how hard his heart is beating from where his chest is pressed against his back. It’s a lot to deal with; this perfect morning in the sun, the soft sound of the radio, the sweet boy in his arms.
They’re both grinning to themselves. Eddie focuses back on the food before him, doing all his work with one hand, and starts a little hum.
The radio switches to a love song.
#[holding my hand to my ear like im tryna harmonize] gaYyyYYy people in my PhOooooNe#enjoy some short and sweet mutual pining#both can't believe this shit is happening to them#but steve especially#but it IS! eddie thinks he's the cat pajamas!!!#ruby writes steddie#steddie#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steddieweek2023
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
* D o . N o t . r e b l o g
Me, waking up, every day: Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? Is it August {xx} yet? ---
- for multiple various reasons, the most major of which is not f@ndom
{IMG by Me} {DO NOT re-post}
{DO NOT Copy} {Please ASK to Use}
also my Survive copy doesnt even come until after Aug. 15 or so
but not talking about that either
{Digi-Stans @ Me: wHY arENT YOU pLAYING IT YET---
ME: You know if it could just s H I P TO ME.....}
#koushirouizumi personal#koushirouizumi vent#koushirouizumittxt#(Ok but no Genuinely)#(Aug 15 will happen for me before Survive does at all sooo)#(Meanwhile wow drafts below 550)#(You can blame A LOT of that buildup of drafts on ppl who didnt read my blogrules before Interacting but Anywayyy)#(Seriously though PLEASE Do Not ask me about Survive until Ive indicated I've actually had energy to play it)#(Because all I'll be able to do is like turn down conversation on it when I dont even know exact story details)#(Sorry I cant give commentary on a game I havent been able to play or even receive? Yeah anyway)#(And no I dont have enough savings to spare for a 2nd copy or digital so thats Not happening either)#(Even then I'd like to play at my own pace because I already have things happening this month so . Yeah)#(This Has Been A Notice anyway I dont really want replies either)#(Genuinely though... I'd like to not have to Block ppl again)
0 notes
Text
📕BTS Fic Reads - 2022 July - Oct
I’ve been getting messages about my reading lists (because I haven’t been posting monthly and I really don’t have any excuse for not posting for four months lol). Though most of these have been reblogged, commented on, mentioned, etc. and that anybody can just check my archive and tags for the fics, I compiled them all in this list for easy reference (I refer to these lists too 😊). I also notice that it is easier to find fics when they are logged/documented somewhere and when described or properly tagged in the post. I hope this will help readers and potential readers find the fics they like.
💌 Again, these are not mine and we have all these authors to thank - I really appreciate all of you. I may not get to reach all of you but I hope this can serve as a multiplier and reach other readers to discover your gift of stories and for them to find their favorites 💌
Note: if link doesn’t work, click on author link and go to their masterlist
🥕 Ongoing - most recent chapter [as of date this list was posted]
🥕 Completed - drabbles | one shots | series
🥕 S - smut | F - fluff | A - angst
Mostly Mature, 18+ only please
I read different members, different genres so please take note of the tags, description per fic
Don’t forget to reblog/comment on author’s work, too 😊
No AO3 Fic Recs because I have a more organized system on ao3 and putting it here will take time 😭 sorry.
[around 120 fics] I should really go back to posting per month to avoid this buildup
🥕 [Ongoing Series]
↬ Namjoon
And They Were Roommates @joonsrack - two shot [1/2] | 8.4k+ | roommate!taehyung who suddenly left for the summer and had his room rented by Namjoon, strangers to lovers, temporary roommate!Namjoon, unrequited love (OC to Taehyung), unrequited (namjoon to OC), namjoon is so endearing (but destructive lol), humor | f, a
↬ Seokjin
The A-Listers @httpknjoon - drabble series [3/?] | 4.3k+ | actor!seokjin x famous!reader, crack/humor, actors au, rumored relationship but kind of a mystery/guessing game if they are together or not (fun!) | f
To Kill a King @foxymoxynoona - series [7/?] | 100k+ | historical fantasy, political themes, royalty au, Prince!Seokjin | a, s, f
↬ Yoongi
Control @hxseok-honee - series [00/09] | teaser/background | demon king!yoongi, blind!reader, twin brother!hoseok, royalty au, supernatural | a, f In which a hidden princess, much to her twin brother’s dismay, concocts the most unimaginable of plots for the sake of escaping her world of pain and suffering. OR a demon king meets his maker and learns that the one person who can see right through him is a girl who can’t see at all. | a
Match Made in Hell @ughcore - series [7/?] | 23k+ | enemies to lovers (rivals), arranged marriage, doctor!yoongi, unrequited? (it begins as a mystery what their past was) | a, f
Twirl for Me @gimmethatagustd - series [3/?] | 19k | stripper au, single dad!yoongi, a bit of Jungkook, ballet instructor!reader (yoongi’s daughter takes ballet classes), secret identity (i guess?), strangers to lovers | s, a
↬ Jimin
Doctor Dreamy @jungblue - series [2/?] | 15.7k+ | exes au, ex!jimin becomes sperm donor, expecting parents | s, f, a
Rumor Has It @jananakookie - series [5/?] | 29k+ | college au, fake dating, “infamous” OC due to bad rumors, Jimin recently broke up and proposed the fake dating | a, f, s
↬ Taehyung
All of our Lifetimes @bangtan-madi - series [9/15] + interludes | 34k+ | boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au, kind of crime au, “After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?” | f, a
Magic Shop @seokjiniwithluv - series [2/?] | 3.4k+ | club singer!taehyung, daughter of rich CEO arranged to marry CEO!Jimin, enemies to lovers | a, f
Stars Above @crystaljins - drabble series [4/?] | 9.4k | Alien!Taehyung, roommate au (intergalactic exchange program 😁)
Temptation @j-ungkooky - series? [1/?] | 3.1k | CEO!Taehyung, Office AU, Secretary/Assistant!Reader, sexy + humor, intimidating taehyung but he’s actually sweet, he crouched under her desk to hide from someone but this made everything so darn hot 🥵 (no smut yet) | s, future a
Toxic @jeonsjiddies - series [4/?] | 7k+ | stalker!taehyung, hacker!taehyung (using it to stalk and manipulate OC), coworker au | a
↬ Jungkook
All I Want @sxtaep - series [5/?] | 36.9k+ | bestfriend au, fuckboy!jungkook, nerd!reader, FWB au | s, a, f
Bedeviled @writemywaytoyourheart - series [2/?] | 9.1k+ | enemies to lovers, demon!jungkook, human!reader making deals with the devil - gets accompanied by jungkook to the underworld | a, f
Carved @haliiimede - series [3/?] | 39k+ | demon!jungkook x angel!reader, urban fantasy, dystopian au, enemies to lovers | s, a with Taehyung drabble Dominus
Colour Me In @taegularities - series [5/?] | 71.4k+ | fwb au, fake dating au, artist!jungkook, college au, rich au (oc/reader) | s, f, a
Free Use @littlemisskookie - series [6/?] | 13.6k | fwb au, unrequited crush (oc to taehyung), bdsm, childhood friends/neighbor, college au, “Your long time crush agrees to be your dom.” | s, f
Hurtin Me @lookingforluna - drabble series [1/?] | 570 words | ex-FWB, fuckboy!jungkook, roommate au, friends to lovers? | a, s
Idol Jungkook Headcanon @magicshopaholic - series (of one shots but can be read standalone) [4/?] | 42k+ | idol!jungkook, staff!OC (named Lia), strangers to lovers, bad dates, idiots to lovers, eventual dating | f, s The Fifth / Part 2 The Sixth Honey
In Your Eyes @prodgguk - series [00/?] | 1.3k+ (teaser) | widow!reader, detective!jungkook x doctor!reader, past: yoongi x reader (but he passed away) | a, f
Little Baby Bear 2.0 @xddaengx - two shot [1/2] | 5.4k | hybrid!jungkook (he’s a bear hybrid and he’s so cute 🥺), , ex-boyfriend!hoseok who originally owns jungkook but dumped him onto OC, hybrid!taehyung (tiger), hurt/comfort, beginning might be confusing so I read the original version too | a, f
Long Way Home @sparklingchim - drabble series [24/?] | 40k+ | single dad!jungkook, bestfriend!reader, unrequited love, idiots to lovers, feat. Jimin as OC’s fwb | a, f, s
Maniac @strawbearytae - two shot [1/2] | 3.3k+ | exes au, mutual pining, mutual break up, but not kind of ignoring each other, got assigned for a project/Music Festival | a (so far)
Milestones @valorkook - series [00/?] | 900+ | hospital au, doctor!jungkook, nurse!reader, tsundere!jungkook, enemies to lovers | f, a
↬ OT7/Multi
Double Trouble @bangtanstanst & @jooneos - Jungkook x Reader | Christian Yu x Reader
series [3/?] | 59k+ | tattoo artist!jungkook, tattoo artist!christian yu, flower shop staff!reader, roommate au (jk x oc), friends to lovers, bet/dare au (JK bet he’d be better than CY), some jealousy involved | s, a, f
🌷So I read this years ago and I wasn’t that aware of Christian Yu but then this fic blew my mind and I’m so into this pairing/love triangle/poly relationship even though I still don’t follow CY that much at present time. This is just crazy hot. It doesn’t help that there’s this post years ago predicting that Jungkook’s future state is Christian Yu (tattooed, hot but cool).
Office Hours @softiegguk - OT7 x Reader
series [2/7] | 12.2k+ | office bangtan, office au, bts x finance manager!reader, pwp, coworkers au, staff accountant!jungkook, admin assistant!taehyung, project manager yoongi (coming soon), business analyst jimin (coming soon), sales representative hoseok (soon), executive assistant!seokjin (soon), CEO!Namjoon (soon) | s
↬ Themed Series
The Nanny Diaries @btsgotjams27 - OT7 (individual drabble series) bts themed series, single mom!reader, accidental nanny!bangtan, humor | f
namjoon | au: neighbors ➥ the reluctant nanny (tba)
jin | au: friends ➥ the accidental nanny
yoongi | au: housemates➥ the i-had-no-choice nanny
hoseok ~ ?
jimin | au: co-workers
taehyung ~ ?
jungkook | au: strangers to friends➥ the unexpected nanny➥ the blind date➥ the weekend trip
🥕 [Completed Fics/Series]
I Love You @ughseoks - drabble } 1.8k | slice of life, strangers to lovers, established relationship, boyfriend to husband, expecting parents au, tooth-rotting fluff, snippets of important moments with Namjoon | f (i love this! I still cry thinking about this drabble)
The Interpretation of Dreams @ppersonna - one shot | 13.8k | PhD Mentor Namjoon, Post-grad, OC/Reader crushing on Namjoon | s, f
Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice @dalamjisung - series [3/3] | 11.9k | unrequited au (oc to namjoon), best friend jisoo went after namjoon too, self-discovery fic (for OC), more on OC and her relationship with Jisoo and discovering her true friends/true self | a, f
Lost in the Funhouse @dovechim - one shot | 9.7k | thriller, prisoner!namjoon, asylum, psych patient, psychological, criminal au, psychiatrist!reader | s
Mission @dreamscript - one shot | 3.2k | spy au, team leader!namjoon, established relationship, coworker, action (slight), hurt/comfort (oc comforts him when he felt he messed up leading a mission and OC got hurt) | f
Sail @sunshinejoon - drabble | 1.6k | strangers to lovers, idol!namjoon, staff!reader, eventual established relationship, boyfriend au, tattooed!reader (which Namjoon got curious of), hurt and comfort too | f
Show me How @imaginationofacrazyfangirl - one shot | 3.9k | virgin!reader who decided to hook up through tinder, dating app, strangers to lovers, not sure if this is ongoing but it ended with a vibe that it has a continuation(?) | s
Straps & Chokers @joonsrack - drabble | 2.1k | CEO!Namjoon x Assistant!reader, boss-employee relationship (reader finds him stressful at work), BDSM Club, Meeting your boss in a BDSM club is probably the last thing you were expecting coming here. | s (nothing graphic but very mature themes)
The Body Through Time @yeoldontknow - one shot | 10.9k | exes au, falling out/break up, post-grad, professor!namjoon, OC offered graduate assistant position (Art History Dept) and needs Namjoon’s signature but he’s still hurt 🥺| a, s, f
The Wedding Arrangement @sugaurora - one shot | 44k | enemies to lovers, turned FWB, neighbor au, medical/health professional (physician’s associate!reader), construction contractor!namjoon, wedding au (seokjin’s), unrequited love (oc to seokjin) | a, f, s
Til Death Do Us Part @justimajin - series [11/11] | 49.2k | arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, assassin au/agent au, heirs, action, themes of revenge, some minor ☠️| a, f, s
All an Act @tteokggukk - one shot | 10.6k | acting major seokjin and oc/reader, enemies to lovers, college au, humor | f, implied s
Timelines @doyouknowbts - series [8/8] | 27.1k | soulmate au, time travel au/teleporting, time slip, doctor!seokjin, journalist!reader | a, f
Amour Propre Blind Spot @randombtsprincessa - two shot [2/2] | 8.9k | idol!yoongi, break up au | a, f
Bubbles @dreamcatcherjiah - SMAU | neighbor au, mutual pining, producer!yoongi x writer!reader, parenting au (they are the usual babysitters of their neighbor’s baby Yoonji), something happened to to Yoonji’s Dad and they got appointed to be the guardians | f, a
The Couples Package @pars-ley - one shot | 2k | friends to lovers, fake dating au, vacation au, asked yoongi to join for the couples trip but there is couples therapy in the package (that ended up being too real) | a, f
Dawning Revelation @artaefact - drabble | 522 words | police au, supernatural, detective!yoongi, devil!reader | a
Fixer Upper @gukyi - drabble 1.5k | established relationship, slice of life, humor, tooth-rotting fluff, yoongi keeps asking you to fix things in your new apartment, and it’s getting ridiculous.| f
Post-prank Smutty Drabble @btsqualityy - drabble | 500 words | pwp, husband!yoongi, just filthy, based on a request “...continuation of a smut drabble of YG and mama min of that bad prank that she pulled on Yoongi” | s
Recompense @vminity21 - drabble | 2.9k | college au, used to be childhood friends but grew apart after OC moved away, kind of enemies to lovers (just bickering), tsundere!yoongi, themes of grief, hurt/comfort | a, f
The Art Critic @mooniyooni - drabble | >1k | established relationship, husband!yoongi, dad!yoongi, parenting (yoongi babysitting the babies) Idolverse, tooth-rotting fluff | f
The Devil Skates on Thin Ice @vankoya - series [3/3] | 60.3k | slow burn, exes, figure skater!reader, hockey player!tyoongi, enemies to lovers, college au, sports au, falling out + mutual pining (so I guess this makes it idiots to lovers too), we discover their history and I love the slow burn, a fandom classic really | a, f
Vows aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart @hamsterclaw - two shot + drabbles | 28k+ | arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, sort of fwb too, rich au, heartwarming really I just like this Yoongi, bratty!reader (and oh I wanna tag him as the doting husband), Yoongi was dating someone when he was “forced” to marry OC, OC tried to atone for the times she embarrassed Yoongi, seriously one of my favorite OTPs | f, s
Catch Your Death @dovechim - one shot | 5.1k | hybrid au, arranged marriage, proof of consummation, snow leopard!hoseok, general!hoseok, princess!reader, royalty | s
Checkmate @sunshinejoon - drabble | 743 words | fuckboy!hoseok, unaffected OC (in the beginning), I guess playing with hearts, this was supposed to have a continuation (but this is the last) | a
Feral @lovesickjoon - one shot | 4.1k | best friend au, unrequited love, werewolf!hoseok, supernatural, pwp | s
Head Over Heels to Hell @jimlingss - one shot | 27.5k | soulmate au, reincarnation au, enemies to lovers, college (in the present time) to post-college, childhood friends/acquaintance (present time), star-crossed lovers (past lives), past lives themes of: war, historical, thievery, pregnancy, an amazing PLOT TWIST, humor #holygrailfics | a, f
Make a Move @alpacaparkaseok - one shot | 4.6k | humor, tooth-rotting fluff, roommate au, strangers to lovers, mistaken identity (OC thought roommate Hobi is a girl) | f
Simmer @gimmeyoon - one shot | 17.1k | exes au, falling out, mutual pining, OC came back to town, summer au, coworker au, summer job at a restaurant, eventual angst (why we broke up moment), kind of star-crossed (person with a future vs someone who will hold her back) | a, s, f
Ubiquitous @sunshinejoon - drabble | 1.9k | some parts epistolary, exes au, break up au, OC/Reader discovered a stash of letters by Hoseok when they were still together | a, f
Adonis @xjoonchildx - one shot | 3.4k | humor/crack (this is super funny), paramedic!jimin, nosy meddling lady/neighbor who decided to play matchmaker lol, meet cute, strangers to lovers | f
Best of Me @xotoosweet - two shot [2/2] | 21.6k | slow burn, slice of life, hurt/comfort (themes of depression), fratboy!jimin, college au, strangers to friends to lovers, meet cute (basically saw her diving into a river), one night stand, adulting themes | f, a, implied s
Cathexis @jkeuphoriadreamland - series [3/3] | 27k | thriller, supernatural, firestarter!jimin, OC/Reader used to defend Jimin when he was getting bullied, Jimin comes back to town, a bit mystery (jimin’s powers), slight yandere behavior | f, s
Falling @jvngkook97 - drabble | 990 words | exes au, reunion - catching up over coffee, idol!jimin, mutual pining | a, f
Hooked @parkdatjimin - series [7/7] + drabbles | 56k | nerd!jimin, college au, fwb au, mutual pining | s, f, a
Insatiable + Illusion @artaefact - drabble | >1k | fantasy, angel!jimin x demon!reader, star-crossed forbidden romance, “when he still comes back to you” | a, bittersweet f
Midnight Munchies @yoongihime - one shot | 2.2k | humor, strangers to lovers, college au, delivery boy!jimin, customer!reader, from the prompt: “i made my special request for my pizza for them to send their cutest delivery person and you showed up and apologized that you were the only one delivering tonight and i blurted out that they still got my request right” | tooth-rotting fluff
Rhythmic @darlingwoes - drabble | 2.2k | established relationship, boyfriend au, dancer!jimin, practice room setting, oc/reader hates the song and Jimin danced with OC to make a new memory (uWu) | f, s
The Girl Next Door @alpacaparkaseok - drabble | >3k | strangers to lovers, amusement park, mascot!jimin (he’s chimmy T_T) | f
Jimin Birthday Reblogs
a reblog of my favorite Jimin fics with this hashtag #Happy Jimin Day Fave Fics 2022
about 40+ fics 🙀
5 Times He Said I Love You @n3onguts - one shot | 5k | different versions of ‘i love you’ told throughout the course of a relationship, established relationship, break up or dissolution of a relationship, angsty | a
Armful @ughseoks - drabble | 1.2k | werewolf!taehyung, hairy arm taehyung (something I didn’t know I’d find hot but thank you dear writer), established relationship, boyfriend!taehyung, pwp | s
Broken Rings & Queens and Things @gukyi - one shot | 24k | arranged marriage, kind of fuckboy!taehyung, royalty au, enemies to lovers, prince!taehyung x princess!reader | f, slight a, slight s
Cipher @alpacaparkaseok - one shot | 14.1k | supernatural-ish, mystery, humor too (the two characters have funny exchanges in the beginning), so kind of enemies to lovers vibes too, some plot twist, fairy tale/folk tale reference (Peter Pan & Pied Piper), fortune teller!taehyung, it’s also thrilling though it’s not the usual thriller | f, a
Cold Husband!Taehyung + Kissing each other breathless drabble @leefics - drabble | 1.3k | CEO!Taehyung, arranged marriage au, first kiss prompt, taehyung picking up drunk wife who got emotional thinking taehyung doesn’t like her | f (super cute)
Dickless @monimonimoon - one shot | 11.1k | OC with a boyfriend who can’t satisfy her in some ways, fwb taehyung, cheating OC (unapologetically) | s
The End of Us @angelseokjinnie - drabble | 3.4k | sugar daddy au, four years as sugar baby (by contract) - starts to develop feelings for Taehyung, just graduated!reader | a, s
Good Girls Go Bad @jkstompers - series [3/3] + drabbles | 46k+ | slow burn, hurt/comfort too for Don’t Watch Me Cry drabble, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, then friends to lovers, bad boy au, college au, intimidating taehyung x chirpy cute!oc who asked taehyung to teach her how to be bad, makeover au? | a, f, s
Higher @ppersonna - one shot | 3.8k | strangers to lovers, mile high club, airplane setting, pwp | s, slight f
Locked & Loaded @justimajin - one shot | 10k | action, secret agent au, coworkers, unrequited (for OC), oblivious taehyung (jungkook had to spell it out for him ugh), humor/comedy, boss!yoongi | f
Lost @salvejoon - one shot | 4.7k | enemies to lovers, fuckboy!taehyung, only one bed trope, getting lost, vacation au, stranded au, their best friends are dating (Jimin x OC) but Taehung x Reader don’t like each other (or don’t they? 😉) | a, f, s
Moneyball @oshbluepacific - drabble | 2k | mafia!taehyung, husband!taehyung, arranged marriage, casino setting, some girls thirsting over taehyung and being rude to OC (not knowing she’s the wife), gambling | f
Only One Bed E2L Taehyung drabble @taestefully-in-luv - drabble | 3.3k | humor, e2l, only one bed trope, coworkers, rivalry since college | s
The Only One @jjungkookislife - one shot | 8.7k | best friend au, fuckboy!taehyung, fwb, Taehyung is from the You Up? universe (JK’s story) | s, f
Picture It @dalamjisung - one shot | 4.9k | strangers to lovers, coffee shop setting, photographer Taehyung who job hops, hurt/comfort (adulting & surviving despite parental expectations), mutual pining (they are each other’s muses and OC would write about this Taehyung she just sees at the cafe) | f (really cute and heartwarming too)
Poison Apple @jooniyah - series [3/3] | 82.36k | thriller, mafia au, yandere and psychotic behavior from Taehyung (he’s just…insane), happy ending for OC (or, for now), OC originally married to Yoongi, MIND THE TAGS!!! (not for the faint of heart) | a, s
Restart @yuudetama - drabble | 740 | break up, divorce au, taehyung and soon-to-be-ex-wife talking about turning back the clock over coffee | a (angsty but beautifully written)
Sea Star + Beside You @koyamuses - two shot [2/2] | 6.4k | pirate king!!taehyung, established relationship, LDR (he’s away at sea), kind of historical, childhood friends, fantasy, sex on a ship 👀, eventual proposal au, husband au | f, s
Trace the Colours of Our Skin @youmistme - drabble | 2.5k | artist au, blind date where they go naked and paint each other while interviewing/getting to know each other (like one of those Youtube, hurt/comfort fic | f
Under the Cloak @jungblue - one shot | 7.7k | Hogwarts AU, enemies to lovers (one-sided from OC), quidditch player!taehyung *gryffindor, tutor!reader, bet/dare themes (if he gets an A, agree on a date), use of the invisibility cloak for smutty purposes 😉 | s, slight f
Verboten @97erstan - one shot | 3.6k | cop!taehyung, best friend's boyfriend, twisted characters, themes of manipulation, plot twist | s
Your New Boss @dreamescapeswriting - one shot | 5k | CEO AU, Exes au, VP!Reader (but she doesn’t know about the new CEO which is really rare in reality but let’s assume Taehyung didn’t want the VPs to know about organization changes first), stuck in the elevator, kind of bad break up (accusations of cheating on her) | s, f
Waterloo @kinktae - one shot | 13k | slow burn, meet cute, strangers to lovers, artist!taehyung, art student!oc/reader, college au, vacation au, Paris setting, kind of tsundere-ish taehyung in the beginning, tourist au (oc toured him around so he can find inspiration) | f, a, implied s
(Un)welcomed Addition @joonscypher - one shot | 9k | neighbor au, one night stand, noona!reader, some form of bet/dare themes, college au, fuckboy!jungkook, OC/Reader already working, humor, really cute | f
A Night and a Year @dulce-jpm - one shot | 3.6k | briefly ex!yoongi x reader, arranged marriage au, past business scandal that led to cutting ties with Min family, Yoongi also broke up with her, arranged marriage with Jungkook to save “family” rep, ex-girlfriend!Sana, accused Jungkook of cheating, talks about this business/marriage | a, slight f (I still think these two deserve a drabble to see if they end up falling for each other 👀)
A Nugget of Comfort @madbutgloriouspond - drabble | 2.1k | established relationship, hurt/comfort fic, OC grieving over their pet hamster | f, a
Aftermath @whatifyoulivelikethat - one shot | 12.2k | exes au, stages of post-break up, accidental stalking from jungkook while OC is on a date, sub!jungkook | s
Anti-Romantic @chemicalpink - one shot | 4.7k | childhood friends, unrequited love (jk to oc), but his bestfriend *Sungho) ended up with oc, sungho actually cheating, oc revenge sex (with jungkook), bad decisions (like why OC why did you go through the wedding T_T) | s
Azaleas @randombtsprincessa - one shot | 9k | enemies to lovers (rivals), coworker au, lawyer au, hot intense lawyer!jungkook | f, s
The Bad Guy @ggukachuwu - drabble | 671 words | tattoo artist!jungkook x CEO!reader, bad boy!jungkook, secret identity (though we never know his work or why he is the bad guy) | a
Bittersweet @citrustan - one shot | 2.8k | ex-fwb, unrequited (oc to jungkook), falling out (oc didn’t know jk started to have serious relationship w someone else) | a
Castaway @hamsterclaw - one shot | 8.3k | enemies to lovers in the beginning, stranded au, beach au, survival au (plane crashed on a deserted island), strangers to lovers, humor, super cute ending | s, mild a, f
CEO Junior @mooniyooni - drabble | >3k | humor, strangers, son of CEO!Jungkook, office au, meet cute, music/artist but got stuck in office work, boss-employee | f
Comfortable, Bare, and Hungry @jinkookspencil - drabble | 2.6k | established relationship, boyfriend au, hurt/comfort fic, they ate pizza while naked | f, suggestive s
Denial = Desperation @adonis-koo - drabble | 3k | drabble from the series Wicked where Jungkook is just fantasizing about OC, series tags/genres ➡️arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, historical, royalty au | s
Drive @sunshinejoon - drabble | >1k | FWBs who are pining for each other, idiots to lovers, angsty beginning | a, f
Duty Before Love + Part 2 @blue-jade - two shot [2/2] | 10.4k | royalty au, agreed infidelity (jungkook’s wife chose OC/reader to be the child bearer), pregnancy au, historical, forbidden/star-crossed (royalty x servant!reader), unrequited love | a, s, f
Echoes of Love @moonlightchildz - one shot | 2.5k | exes au, break up au, jungkook broke up with OC and we don’t know why T_T, feat. best friend!taehyung | a, s, f
Exposed @getitinbusan - drabble | 2.1k | photographer!reader, dispatch photoshoot, idol!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, pwp and really filthy | s
The Hardest Part @kimnjss - one shot | 2.5k | bestfriend au, unrequited (for OC), jungkook is getting married, extra angsty, something I probably read 3x now T_T | a
Heat Rises @dreamyjoons - drabble | 1.1k | boyfriend au, established relationship, pwp, hair pull + shower sex, that curly Jungkook from 5th Muster | s
Kinktober 2022: October 1 corruption kink with jeon jeongguk @seokgism - drabble | 3k | corruption kink, virgin!jungkook, experienced!oc, happens during the family dinner lol | s, pwp
Late Night Assignment @writeformesinpie - one shot | 2.7k | CEO!Jungkook, boss-employee, office au, OC/Reader has a date and Jungkook couldn’t function a bit at the thought lol, very funny banter and JK with wild exaggerated imagines about OC and her date, humor | s
Like Stars in a Constellation @taegills - one shot | 20.9k | sci-fi, star-crossed love, time travel au of sorts only they are meeting in reverse (one timeline is forward while the other is backward), strangers to lovers at one point, established relationship at one point, kind of bittersweet | a, f, s (implied)
The Love Bug @jungkxook - one shot | 20.6k | neighbor au, childhood friends (more on acquaintance), college, secret identity (duh, he’s spiderman), adaptation: spiderman au, superpower/superhero au, spiderman!jungkook | f, s
Lover Boy @ughseoks - drabble | <1k | humor, heartwarming, established relationship, lots of dick jokes lol, boyfriend!jungkook x oc in a romantic bath together (tub scenario) | f
Nanny @jjungkookislife - drabble | 700+ words | nanny!reader, single dad!jungkook, pwp| implied s
On Camera @agustdiv1ne - one shot | 3.1k | established relationship, boyfriend!jungkook, gamer au, youtuber!jungkook, pwp about jungkook recording their smutty moments | s
Ours @v-hope - drabble | 2.3k | best friend au, also childhood friends, now roommates in college, tooth-rotting fluff, domestic vibes, living with your best friend turned longing for exclusivity (just read my reaction I poured my entire giddy heart into it) | f
Pardon the Interruption @strawbkoo - one shot | 4.4k | established relationship, coworker seoyeon keeps interrupting their sexy time/moments, pwp | s
Perfect Coincidence @smilingleoo - one shot | 4.7k | DJ!reader, football team captain!jungkook, popular jungkook who was having an affair with the Math Teacher (uhm police alert 👀), party au (they did it on Hoseok’s couch), Hoseok is OC/Reader’s best friend and it’s his party | s, pwp
Picture Perfect @upinthestarsx3 - one shot | 879 words | best friend au, photographer!jungkook, needs to take photos of her nude for a magazine but turned smutty | s, pwp
Risk it All @httpjeon - series [5/5] | 14.1k | hybrid au, wolf!jungkook, I included this in the werewolf fic rec list though he’s not really a werewolf lol (he doesn’t shift), alpha!jungkook, a/b/o dynamics, predator-prey dynamics in this au, OC got thrown in a warehouse filled with predators and there’s also jungkook | f, a, s
Save You @mimikookie - drabble | 4k | supernatural, fantasy, post-apocalyptic, a bit of action, star-crossed vibes, archangel!jungkook x human!reader, it’s just intense and feels like some epic scene, war? (the angels were fighting and some creatures attacking humans), badass OC | a, f
SPF 50 @gimmeyoon - one shot | 10.6k | coworker au, strangers to friends to lovers, summer au, lifeguard!jungkook, slow burn, kind of bittersweet (because summer love stories usually are) | a, f, s
Strangers to Lovers @kissmetae - one shot | 3.2k | uhm strangers to lovers, gym crush!jungkook, gym setting, role playing | s, f
Symmetry @adriftmoonchild - one shot | 10k | enemies to lovers, fwb au, hogwarts au, mutual pining, secret relationship, rich!OC/reader, magic, kind of forbidden relationship (pure blood!oc x half-blood jungkook) and OC arranged to marry someone else | s, a, f
Vampire’s Kiss @immabiteyou - one shot | 4k | bartender!reader, bar au, vampire!jungkook, jk in all black | s
When We Were Sixteen @seokjiniwithluv - one shot | 10.3k | moments with jungkook told per year, best friend au, parts namjoon x reader & jungkook x hana, a bit taehyung x reader, high school to college to working, unrequited, falling out of some sort,jungkook leaving the country and friends jimin/taehyung checking on OC, angst with happy ending for OC | a, f
posted: 2022 Nov 5
link to other reading lists
other fic rec lists (by theme)
feel free to message me about fics! (leads to @ggukkiereads 🌷)
.
#ggukkiereadinglist#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#taehyung smut#jimin x smut#hoseok smut#yoongi smut#seokjin smut#namjoon smut#bts fic recs#bts fic rec
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!
okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡
pairing: eren jaeger x reader
wc: 10.4k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here
without further ado...
-
"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."
“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”
“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.
“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”
There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.
“Don’t forget. Find something.”
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.
What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone.
He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.
You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.
“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”
A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”
“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.
You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.
“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”
God, you wish he’d stop talking.
“Well, do you go to Oxford?”
“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”
“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.
You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”
Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.
“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.
“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”
“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”
“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”
“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”
“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”
Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.
“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.
“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”
“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.
“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”
Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”
“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.
“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.
“Peaches?”
“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.
“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”
“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.
“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.
“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.
“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.
“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”
Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.
“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.
“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.
“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.
“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.
“I said I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it.
“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”
“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.
“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.
“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”
“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.
“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”
“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?
You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.
“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”
“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.
“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”
The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.
For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.
You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.
“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”
“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.
“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?
“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.
“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”
“What time is it, then?”
You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.
“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.
“Huh?”
“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.
“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”
“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”
“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.
“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.
“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.
“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”
Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.
“Open up.”
You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.
Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.
“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.
“I’m never hungry.”
“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.
“Never.”
“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”
“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.
“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”
“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.
“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”
You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.
“Didn’t want to what?”
Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.
Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.
“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.
Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.
“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”
You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.
“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”
“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”
“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.
“I do.”
“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”
“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.
“Hamlet?”
“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”
“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”
“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.
“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.
“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”
“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.
It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.
When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.
They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.
There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.
A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?
Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.
You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.
“There you are.”
Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”
“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?
His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.
“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.
Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.
“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”
He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.
“Where are we?”
“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.
Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.
“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”
It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.
A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.
“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.
“I’m not sure, I–”
“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”
And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.
“Oh–”
“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”
You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.
“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.
“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”
The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?
Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.
“Sleeping?”
You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?
“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”
“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.
“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.
“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”
A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”
“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”
“Need company?”
“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”
“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”
“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.
“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”
“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.
“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”
Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.
“Eren?”
He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”
“Was I talking in my sleep?”
Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.
“No, why?”
“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.
“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”
When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.
“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”
“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.
“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”
“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.
Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.
His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.
“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.
“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”
Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.
“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.
“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.
“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.
“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”
“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”
“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”
“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”
It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.
“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.
“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”
“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.
A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.
“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.
The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.
His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.
You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.
“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.
“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.
“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”
Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.
“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.
“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”
“Tell you– w-what? Here?”
“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”
The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.
You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.
“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”
“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.
“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”
He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.
“I…I’m scared.”
Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”
“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”
“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”
“Wait–”
“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”
“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”
“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.
“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.
“Keep going.”
“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”
“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?
“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”
A knowing smirk. “When?”
“When I saw you.”
Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.
“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”
“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”
“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”
“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”
Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.
“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”
He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.
“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.
“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”
“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”
“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”
“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.
The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.
“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”
“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”
He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”
“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”
“What was your answer?”
You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.
You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.
“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.
“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.
“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.
“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.
“But what?”
“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.
“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.
“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”
“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.
“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”
“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”
“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”
Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.
“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.
“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.
“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”
“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.
“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.
Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.
Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.
You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.
Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.
You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.
#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger fanfiction#aot#aot fanfic#eren jaeger x you#eren yeager x you#attack on titan x reader#aot x reader#that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3
311 notes
·
View notes
Text
Now we know how COVID attacks your heart
Even patients with mild COVID symptoms could face a higher risk of developing heart disease and stroke
By Sanjay Mishra Nov 07, 2023 04:08 PM 5 min. read
Scientists have noticed that COVID-19 can trigger serious cardiovascular problems, especially among older people who have a buildup of fatty material in their blood vessels. But now a new study has revealed why and shown that SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, directly infects the arteries of the heart.
The study also found that the virus can survive and grow inside the cells that form plaque—the buildup of fat-filled cells that narrow and stiffen the arteries leading to atherosclerosis. If the plaque breaks, it can block blood flow and cause a heart attack or a stroke. The SARS-CoV-2 infection makes the situation worse by inflaming the plaque and increasing the chance that it breaks free.
This can explain long-term cardiovascular effects seen in some, if not all, COVID-19 patients.
SARS-CoV-2 virus has already been found to infect many organs outside the respiratory system. But until now it hadn't been shown to attack the arteries.
"No one was really looking if there was a direct effect of the virus on the arterial wall," says Chiara Giannarelli, a cardiologist at NYU Langone Health, in New York, who led the study. Giannarelli noted that her team detected viral RNA—the genetic material in the virus—in the coronary arteries. “You would not expect to see [this] several months after recovering from COVID.”
Mounting evidence now shows that SARS-CoV-2 is not only a respiratory virus, but it can also affect the heart and many other organ systems, says Ziyad Al-Aly, a clinical epidemiologist at Washington University in St. Louis. Al-Aly's research has shown that the risk of developing heart and cardiovascular diseases, including heart failure, stroke, irregular heart rhythms, cardiac arrest, and blood clots increases two to five times within a year of COVID-19, even when the person wasn't hospitalized.
"This important study links, for the first time, directly the SARS-CoV-2 virus with atherosclerotic plaque inflammation," says Charalambos Antoniades, chair of cardiovascular medicine at the University of Oxford, United Kingdom.
Virus triggers the inflammation in plaque
A recent study of more than 800,000 people led by Fabio Angeli, a cardiologist at University of Insubria in Varese, Italy, has shown that COVID-19 patients develop high blood pressure twice as often as others. More worrying is that the risk of cardiac diseases can also rise for patients who suffered only mild COVID symptoms.
"I saw a patient who now has a defibrillator, and she didn't even have a severe [COVID] illness," says Bernard Gersh, a cardiologist at Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minnesota.
Wondering whether the cardiovascular damage during COVID was due to the virus directly attacking the blood vessels, the NYU team analyzed autopsied tissue from the coronary arteries and plaque of older people who had died from COVID-19. They found the virus was present in the arteries regardless of whether the fatty plaques were big or small.
"The original finding in this study is that the virus was convincingly found in the plaque in the coronary artery," says Juan Carlos Kaski, a cardiovascular specialist at St George's, University of London, who was not involved in the study.
The NYU team found that in the arteries, the virus predominantly colonized the white blood cells called macrophages. Macrophages are immune cells that are mobilized to fight off an infection, but these same cells also absorb excess fats—including cholesterol from blood. When microphages load too much fat, they change into foam cells, which can increase plaque formation.
To confirm that the virus was indeed infecting and growing in the cells of the blood vessels, scientists obtained arterial and plaque cells—including macrophages and foam cells—from healthy volunteers. Then they grew these cells in the lab in petri dishes and infected them with SARS-CoV-2.
Giannarelli found that although virus infected macrophages at a higher rate than other arterial cells, it did not replicate in them to form new infectious particles. But when the macrophages had become loaded with cholesterol and transformed into foam cells, the virus could grow, replicate, and survive longer.
"We found that the virus tended to persist longer in foam cells," says Giannarelli. That suggests that foam cells might act as a reservoir of SARS-CoV-2. Since more fatty buildup would mean a greater number of foam cells, plaque can increase the persistence of the virus or the severity of COVID-19.
Scientists found that when macrophages and foam cells were infected with SARS-CoV-2 they released a surge of small proteins known as cytokines, which signal the immune system to mount a response against a bacterial or viral infection. In arteries, however, cytokines boost inflammation and formation of even more plaque.
"We saw that there was a degree of inflammation [caused] by the virus that could aggravate atherosclerosis and cardiovascular events," says Giannarelli.
These findings also confirm previous reports that measuring inflammation in the blood vessel wall can diagnose the extent of long-term cardiovascular complications after COVID-19, says Antoniades.
"What this study has found is that plaque rupture can be accelerated and magnified by the presence of the virus," says Kaski.
Understanding heart diseases after COVID
While this new research clearly shows that SARS-CoV-2 can infect, grow, and persist in the macrophages of plaques and arterial cells, more studies are needed to fully understand the many ways COVID-19 can alter cardiac health.
"The NYU study identifies one potential mechanism, especially the viral reservoir, to explain the possible effects" says Gersh. "But It's not going to be the only mechanism."
This study only analyzed 27 samples from eight elderly deceased patients, all of whom already had coronary artery disease and were infected with the original strains of virus. So, the results of this study do not necessarily apply to younger people without coronary artery disease; or to new variants of the virus, which cause somewhat milder disease, says Angeli.
"We do not know if this will happen in people who have been vaccinated," says Kaski. "There are lots of unknowns."
It is also not clear whether and to what extent the high inflammatory reaction observed in the arteries of patients within six months after the infection, as shown in the new study, will last long-enough to trigger new plaque formation. "New studies are needed to show the time-course of the resolution of vascular inflammation after the infection," says Antoniades.
COVID patients should watch for any new incidence of shortness of breath with exertion, chest discomfort, usually with exertion, palpitations, loss of consciousness; and talk to their physician about possible heart disease.
376 notes
·
View notes
Note
You don’t have to answer this but I hope you read it. I just now saw that you wanted to settle things privately and I feel like a dick because
Well. I hope you’re doing alright and that you have lots of warm blankets and all your favorite drinks of choice nearby. ♥️ I was upset on your part. Lots of good vibes to you.
Hey, don't feel bad about it, I know your intentions were definitely not bad with this, and I'm very appreciative of the gesture regardless of how I wanted to handle things personally
What has been bothering me however is the way people are reacting about this being brought up to Neil
I know it can be mortifying to the fandom at large, but sometimes, some people on the internet won't stop or listen to reason unless some higher authority tells them to do so (which, in this case, it would be Neil), and the people who come to those higher authorities are only trying to make things right, it's all!
Also, he's got over a thousand asks on his inbox and he decided to pick this question to answer by his own volition
No one was pressuring him to do so and he's not going to leave the platform or close his askbox because someone gets a bit too personal with him, he's said before that he just deletes asks that make him uncomfortable, which wasn't the case here so that should tell people enough about it in my opinion (you are completely allowed to disagree)
I've also seen people considering this whole thing just "drama"-?
Listen, I know those people are not me and that theyre not in the position I'm currently at, and by God I hope they never EVER will be
But look. I haven't told anyone (besides 2 friends who watched everything unfold very closely and have helped me with receipt-safekeeping) all the details about this situation, nor have I gone out of my way to talk about it fully with anyone or allow myself to process this whole thing completely, but I assure you, it is not just drama
The way the buildup of all of this messed with me almost made me k-ll myself about a month ago
I can see why people would think it's just something silly since they don't have all the details (and I'm not planning on revealing them unless something big comes up), but please, to those people, think of that for a second, think of everything I haven't talked about. Just. Keep that in mind before you call this drama
I'd really appreciate that
#tw suicide#suicide mention#ughhhhh#thank you for the gesture btw#i knew neil would stand with anti bullying messaging because thats one of the things the dude preaches the most#but its nice to see it in action#even if he still scares me to death dncnmf#aneh answers#aneh cries
372 notes
·
View notes
Text
A little love on the side
Paring: Billy the kid x Fem!reader
18+ NSFW MDNI
warnings: alcohol usage, swearing, secret lovers, Talks about marriage and having a family (it doesn’t though) Smut, PnV (wrap it up guys) praise talking, Just full on soft smut. no description of reader
(this is my late valentines to y’all its a short one sorry😭💖)
word count: 794
Summary: Billy hasn't seen you in a while—almost a month—so he visits you to make up for it. having a nice drink on the side, leading him to show you how much he truly loves you.
The sun was slowly setting as you cleaned up your mess in the kitchen. having an hour of baking just for fun and for the kind old lady that lived nearby. Alice was her name; she was a widow after her husband died from tuberculosis. have given it to her; this gave you time to just relax and focus on yourself, perhaps getting a nice bath. As you finish cleaning up you look out the window and see a Silhouette of a man riding a horse towards your house.
walking out the front door to get a closer look, waiting for the person to get closer, you inspect it was Billy, your long lover, and in secret. stepping down from the wooden steps to walk to him as he got off his horse, embracing him in a deep, warm hug, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, afraid to let go in case he faded away. You feel him place his face into the crook of your neck to take in your scent and feel your soft skin.
"Billy, is it really you?" You whispered still. not willing to let him go. getting the courage to look at his face. He was still was the most handsome man you've ever met. He just smiled softly before leaving a small peck on your forehead. "Don't worry, it's me. I'm here to make up for being gone for half of this month." He spoke softly. Smiling back up to him, you crash your lips onto his, placing your hand on his cheek before pulling back. "Good. We can have a drink.. to cool you down from your ride."
"I think I'd like to have another ride, if you know what I mean, but I'll take your offer." Gasping at his words, you playfully slapped his arm before taking his hand to lead him into the kitchen. handing him a bottle of beer; it was the only thing you had at the moment, needing to head to the stores. Taking a sip after him and catching up. "So, Billy, did you ever think about me?"
Giving you a bewitching smile, he takes your face into his hands. "Of course, I thought about you every day, even when I needed to feel you squeezing me." Feeling something awaken between you both, slowly inching toward one another, feeling his breath on your face. "Really?" you ask, teasing him with a playful voice. Billy hums before closing the gap between you, both his lips slamming against yours. Hands roaming around your body, seemingly trying to feel you anywhere.
Billy's lips move down, kissing your jaw line, then to your neck, letting out a sigh as he left marks. You feel yourself becoming damp as the seconds pass. "Billy please.." You let out a tiny huff. "It has been too long since I've had you. Do you know how hard it was for me when you weren't here to please me?" You whine Taking his hand and placing it on your clothed breast. "I guess I should fix that, huh?" lifting you up onto the table and bunching your skirt up before your legs wrap around his waist.
Wasting no time, he began to unbuckle his belt, throwing it onto the ground with a clunk. Seeing the tip of his throbbing dick with pre-cum, he moved closer to you before kissing you once more while slowly sliding into you. "Fuck.." You cried out, feeling him as he slowly began to thrust into you. "God, I love how you're always so tight for me." His hand moves onto your breast, squeezing it.
"I can't tell you how many times I've imagined making you my pretty wife and startin' a family." Thrusting into you more quickly, the buildup of your orgasm approaching more by the second. "Here as well. God, I want to have a family with you badly." You cry out, grinding your hips against his as he thrusts.
"We can say this is our practice, then, huh?" smirking as his thrusts began to grow sloppier by the second. Throwing your head back as you stutter your words as you cum. "Yeah. Just like that, you're doin' so good for me." Billy moans as he cumes, feeling the warm load fill you up slowly leaking out. Both out of breath and staying still, you start to giggle and look into his eyes. "If that's a practice, I say we should continue it in the bedroom... to be really proper." Biting your lip as you brush his hair out of his eyes. "Well, you don't have to be proper. I'll take you anywhere if I want... even if it means someone catches us."
#billy the kid#billy the kid smut#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid 2022#william bonney#william bonney smut#cowboy smut#tom blyth
141 notes
·
View notes
Text
HUSH HUSH
PAIRING: suna x gn!reader
TAGS: fooling around in secret / almost getting caught
this is a lot different to what i have written before, but this idea came up in my head and i wanted to write it out and see where it goes. and i hope u all enjoy this more matured, exploration, era of my writing <3
suna isn't really friend. he's more of a friend of a friend, a person who shares a similar friend group, a counter part sort of extension from your friend group.
meaning, you see each other at parties, general hangouts, and are on the same group chat. other than that, there hasn't been much interaction between the two of you.
until a month ago.
maybe it was the alcohol, the ambiance of the party, or they way your eyes met from across the room. he was there, behind the makeshift bar at kuroo's house party alone. and you had run out of people to talk to, so you approached him.
the conversation was light, shared a round of shots, and nobody had their eyes on either of you. the talking, light touches on his arm, it all resulted in the two of you walking off together into the bathroom.
it was meant to be a one time thing.
something that was fuelled by the lack of inhibition, and the effects of vodka and tequila running through your bloodstream.
then again, once was clearly not enough.
as now, your roommate, your best friend is out of the house and suna's over like he has been for almost every week since the party. every time you're home alone, he comes over.
you could say it's a poor lack of judgement, or a questionable moment in your life, but god has the past month been fun. the sneaking around behind your friends' backs, the stolen glances, the text messages, the entire package.
you've never felt so alive before. this whole idea of secrecy, something kept between the two of you, as cheesy as it sounds, it's fucking incredible.
pressed against the bedroom wall, legs wrapped around his waist and hands running through brunette hair. there is an urgency. One that is desperate, hungry, lustful, and passionate, as your fingers lace themselves through his hair. his hands at the underside of your thighs holding you up.
"how long will your roommate be gone for?" he murmurs,
"a while, we have time." you pull his mouth to yours, paying little attention to the possibility of anyone returning anytime soon.
your hands trail down his torso, reaching for the hem of his shirt. your touch on his skin sends shivers down his spine, nevertheless, he obliges.
legs dropping to the floor as he pulls the black tee over his head, tossing it across the room before kissing you stronger, desperate, like he's fighting to memorise the feel of your lips together.
god, he's making you crazy, a pile of want, and addiction that sends a person spiralling out of control. his fingers wrap themselves around your necklace, pulling lightly at the thin rusting chain, as a hand is placed on the wall beside you.
your fingers wrapped around the belt loop of his jeans.
it's a routine at this point. the rush, the insatiable feeling of having him so close, the buildup that you chase every time he comes over.
then... a door slams, the jingle of keys work in harmony to the frustrated mumbling echoing off the halls. foot steps approach the bedroom door, a voice calls out your name in a frustrated groan.
alarms ring in your mind as you push the boy off, pinning him against the wall, with a hand over his mouth as you fix your tank top before running a hand through your hair to hide the mess.
you pull open the door, leaning against the frame, a hand still placed on suna's mouth. "what's going on?" you ask, pretending that there isn't a secret hookup right next you, "i thought you had a hair appointment."
trying your best to sound calm, nonchalant, yet sympathetic and caring all at the same time.
"i know, but i called the salon to confirm, and guess what!" they rant, standing out in the hall, one inch away from stepping forward and seeing the hidden body behind the wall.
"what?"
"they told me they couldn't secure my place because i didn't make a deposit!" they exclaim, "first of all, they never told me to make a deposit, nor sent me the bank details."
"that's so fucked!" you say, "how much was the deposit?"
"fifty! fifty fucking dollars, for a stupid deposit to make sure i show up!" they yell, "these hair salons are getting greedy nowadays. and now i'm in a terrible mood!"
"hey, look, i've got a friend that works at a salon downtown." you say, "i'll give 'em a call and see if i can get you an appointment today, will that make you feel better?"
"will you do that?" they sigh of relief, "because if you can that would be amazing! i've got an important work dinner tonight and i want to look good."
"oh, yeah totally, let me go call them right now." you assure, quickly closing the door and leaning against the wood.
suna moves your hand from his lips, "so, are our plans cancelled or what?" he jokes.
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#suna#suna imagines#suna rintaro drabbles#suna x reader#haikyuu suna#suna rintarou#hq suna#suna rintaro#hq fanfic#hq#hq imagines#hq x reader
582 notes
·
View notes
Text
this post and its tags gave me brainworms that i had to purge so that i can properly focus on SGE for the next month, so…
overstimulation, forces orgasm, and crying during sex. blame @yabagofmilfs. i hope you like it!
It’s too hot in the bedroom.
Sid’s lake house in Nova Scotia is usually cool—breeze blowing in off the water and big trees shading over the roof and the patio mean that it stays comfortable even on warm days. Sid keeps the AC on for the sake of the gym, but it’s set to 70, otherwise it gets too cold when the sun is down.
The humidity this week has been oppressive, though, and the air still, and even with the thermostat bumped down to 68 the second floor of the house is too warm, especially in the bedroom with its south-facing windows that get sunlight all day.
“Sid,” Zhenya gasps. His vision feels foggy, just as humid as the shimmering air over the lake outside, blurring at the edges. The wood paneling on the ceiling looks warped, and Zhenya’s breath feels hot as he pants. “Please, Sid, can’t.”
“You can,” Sid says, voice almost kind. “At least one more, bud, I know you’ve got it in you.” He crooks his fingers and rubs, and Zhenya jolts, but he can’t tell if he’s moving towards or away from the touch.
He’s sore. Sid’s been fingering him for what must be hours now, the slow maddening buildup he prefers when it’s the offseason and he has time to spread Zhenya out over beds across North America and Europe and really take his time, and Zhenya’s already come twice; the first one so gradual he was begging for relief by the time Sid relented and jerked him to completion, and the second one so quickly after it almost hurt.
And Sid’s not done yet. Not by a long shot.
“Are you crying?” Sid asks, and Zhenya blinks, trying to focus. Sid’s moving, keeping his hand where it is but stretching alongside Zhenya on the mattress, studying his face. “You are. Already?” The press of his fingers against Zhenya’s prostate is brutal and unrelenting, and Zhenya feels pinned under Sid’s regard. “You know you’ll thank me for it later.”
“No,” Zhenya says, rolling his neck so he’s facing away from Sid. He’s shivering like he’s cold, thighs shaking as Sid works him over, and the lazy sweeps of the ceiling fan do nothing do relieve the heat. “No, don’t, you—”
“Shh,” Sid says softly, dropping a kiss on Zhenya’s shoulder, and then he pulls his fingers free.
Zhenya whines, clenching around nothing, overwhelmed at how empty he feels, but then Sid’s hands are on him, rolling him onto his side and pressing up against him. Sid runs hot, and their bodies skin-to-skin like this is almost too unbearable.
The sound of Sid slicking up his dick with lube is almost obscene in the quiet room; Sid always uses so much, always groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt when he gets a hand on himself, and all Zhenya can do is squirm as he waits.
His whole lower half feels like it’s throbbing, like a bruise he can’t stop pressing on, like the place a tooth used to be that he can’t stop tonguing. His dick is barely hard, smeared with come at the head from his first two orgasms, but when Sid slides into Zhenya’s body, barely giving him time to adjust to the stretch, it twitches, sending a shockwave of pleasurepain up Zhenya’s spine.
“Stop,” he sobs, but he doesn’t mean it, and Sid knows that, gentling him with a hand on his stomach.
Sid feels enormous inside him. Zhenya’s oversensitive, and every pass of Sid’s cock over his prostate, every thrust, makes him shiver and shake in Sid’s arms.
He cries out when Sid’s hand closes around his dick. It’s too much, surely he can’t again, but then Sid’s stroking him, pressing murmured words into his back as he runs his fingers up and down Zhenya’s shaft, squeezing at the head the way Zhenya likes.
Zhenya sobs as he hardens in Sid’s grasp.
“Attaboy,” Sid grunts. “C’mon, let me see it. You can do it, baby, give it to me.” His hand tightens past the point of pleasure, and Zhenya wails and tries to curl into a ball as he comes. It feels like something is being ripped out of him, and his dick hurts, twitching through an orgasm that’s almost entirely dry.
Almost, but not quite.
“You’ve still got some left,” Sid says, lifting his hand and pressing his fingers to Zhenya’s lower lip. Zhenya opens his mouth obediently, letting Sid feed him his own come. “Gotta get it all out or you’ll just be begging for it later. Hold still, baby, and I’ll take care of you.” He pulls his fingers free and gets a hold of Zhenya’s hip, holding him hard enough to bruise as he fucks into him harder, panting hotly against Zhenya’s neck and practically flattening him forward into the bed. He’s not gentle, he’s not careful, and all Zhenya can do is lie there and take it.
“Fuuuuck,” Sid finally groans, hips stuttering forward as he comes. Zhenya can feel Sid’s balls against his own, and Sid’s sweat is dripping off his chest down Zhenya’s back. They’re disgusting, and Zhenya wants to marinate in how this feels all day.
Sid stays in him until he can’t, letting his dick slip out with a sound that makes Zhenya want to hide. He sounds sloppy—loose—wet with lube and come and fucked open by Sid’s fingers and his dick. When Sid rolls him onto his stomach and parts his cheeks to get a better look, Zhenya tries to kick him away, but his legs are heavy and tingling.
“Nice,” Sid says, voice low and dirty and appreciative. “You look pretty sore, bud.”
Zhenya lets himself relax. Three times in one morning is surely enough; now, Sid will go get a washcloth and some lotion, and he’ll clean Zhenya up and give him a massage, and then they’ll go lie out on the deck in the shade until Zhenya feels human enough to shower.
“I better kiss it better,” Sid says instead, and the touch of his tongue to Zhenya’s used hole is so sharply good that all Zhenya can do is writhe and press his poor, abused dick into the mattress and hope Sid finishes him off quickly.
#it’s short and only meh but#the tags possessed me and this was my exorcism#sidgeno#hockey rpf#my writing#my fic
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
Can we just talk about how good this scene in The Spear of Selene! is?
To start, we’ve just got the gradual buildup of Dewey and Webby adventuring around Ithaquack, just to find some sort of answer about Della. It all culminates in this line:
Webby: We’re so close to the truth! Why won’t you let us find it?!
Dewey: Because…what if my mom was a bad person?
And even though she really wants to figure this one out, Webby respects Dewey’s wishes, and decides to drop it for now. But then Dewey has a change of heart, deciding that if they’ve gotten this far, they should see it through to the end.
At which point, an ominous figure jumps out from behind them…
…who turns out to be the Goddess of the Moon herself, Selene!
One thing I will make note of is the fact that Frank and Matt were originally intending Selene to be more serious and regal, but they ultimately reworked her characterization to better fit Nia Vardalos’ voice, which is how we ultimately got the wise, yet laid-back and playful Selene we all know.
Anyway, Selene explains that the whole gauntlet Dewey and Webby just went through was intended for Della, because she knew Della would find it fun.
On the topic of whether Selene would have actually known that Della got stuck on the moon, her moon, I would like to think that yes, she did know. I mean, besides the previous point, she and Della are super close; it just doesn’t seem right to have her not know what happened to Della. As for why she couldn’t do anything about it, well, need I remind you who her father is? But I digress.
So Selene, despite being this all-powerful goddess, doesn’t know what Dewey’s talking about by a “Spear of Selene”, but eventually realizes that he’s “Della’s kid” when Dewey brings up “his mom” taking it.
Even though Dewey’s dismayed that he’s now back to square one, Selene assures him that Della was a good person. The greatest, even. And she made everyone around her better.
She even gives it to Dewey for him to keep.
And she assures Dewey not to give up his search, because Della wouldn’t have, either.
And then we get this sweet bit…
Also, I just love how gentle Selene is with Dewey in this scene. I mean, the boy’s never met his mother, has been looking ceaselessly for answers about her for months, and even though Selene doesn’t have all of them, she tells Dewey what he needs to hear, and even gives him a much-needed hug. She’s not Della, but she gives Dewey that maternal guidance that he really needs right about now.
Random headcanon: Just like Louie with Goldie, Dewey calls Selene “Aunt Selene”. Well, I can see all the boys doing that at some point, but Dewey would probably be the first one.
(Minor credits to TV Tropes for this analysis)
204 notes
·
View notes
Text
OUR MOURNING GLORY ┊ TODOROKI TOUYA
synopsis: everything born in his body will eventually outgrow it. his love for you should be no different.
tags: GN reader, hanahaki au, strangers to friends to lovers, falling in love, requited unrequited feelings, quirkless reader, villain dabi, vomiting, hanahaki as a chronic illness, quirkless discrimination, lack of self worth, hurt + comfort, mild body horror, morally ambiguous reader, first kisses, very hopeful ending (<- I prommy lol)
wc: 5.4K
A/N: now with lovely cover art from momo! thank you so much!
Dabi really fucking hates doctors, has since he was a kid.
They’re too sterile. The strong antiseptic smell burned his sinuses and being surrounded by entirely white walls set him on edge. As though he had been deposited into a liminal space where time does not exist. A cacophony of suffering, incessant beeping, wheels rolling on old gurneys, echoed footsteps, all coalescing into prickly white noise.
Finding a place that would actually treat him was a hell in and of itself. Bigger hospitals and university medical centres weren’t viable options, given how beefed up security usually was. Seedy back-alley places existed in the areas he liked to haunt, but even the thought of stepping foot into one gave him sepsis.
Quirkless clinics were rare. Most that existed ran out of funding— the government saw no reason to care for a dying species. If you didn’t have a quirk then you had it bad. Citizens were legally required to have it listed under a disability on their medical records, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to be turned away in the emergency room because of it.
Dabi almost walked away that first night. As bad of a guy as he is, there was something inherently wrong about infringing on space that did not belong to him. But you had stepped out into the street for a break, jacket pulled close to your chest, took one look at the blood dried to his cheeks and rallied him inside.
He finds himself back here again, for the nth time. Today makes it an entire year since he met you, and ten full months since he coughed up that first bud. A mild inconvenience turned into an invasive bloom.
“…Hanahaki is a serious disease. It is a condition where vine-like buildup in your airways forms into buds, eventually flowering into…”
Morning glories. Buds of deep-blue, trumpet-shaped blossoms and leafy stems. The delicate petals taste surprisingly bitter, with a bite that lingers in the fissures between his molars after it has been ground into thin paste and swallowed. He had long since gotten used to the astringency— drying his throat, twisting his stomach.
“…At best it causes severe breathing difficulties and discomfort. Worst case scenario, it can be fatal…”
In the beginning he thought it would pass. Dabi has endured sickness all his life and a cough wasn’t about to stop his long laid plans. But it worsened, mutated into something he could not control. He remembers sitting in your bathroom on the toilet lid, the little blue burgeon rolling in the shallow of his palm. It’d been covered in bloody mucus, but still a pip, still harmless.
Any sane person might have been afraid at that moment, realising what fate awaited them. Dabi, however, felt oddly resigned. One in one hundred million. Of course this would happen to him. Death clung to him everywhere he went.
“Dabi, are you listening?”
Doctor Tereda had been the one to stitch him up back then. A quack with a near useless cell activation quirk and glasses lenses thick enough for a bullet to bounce off. You’d dragged him into her office, sat him on the bed with surprising strength, and she attended to him no questions asked.
Dabi tried not to make a habit of visiting one place too often, but between your pleading eyes and his rapidly worsening health, he ended up back in her office more times than he cared to.
He makes a noncommittal sound.
“As a medical professional I must strongly advise you to talk to the individual these feelings have bloomed for,” Terada says. Dabi does not like the sympathetic pinch in her brow. “That is the least invasive option”.
Prying open his chest and baring himself to you seems pretty damn invasive. “Not happening,” he mutters airily.
There’s a sense of satisfaction when her frown strains with frustration. Her glasses slip down the bridge of her nose. “Your case is incredibly advanced. It may be your only chance to tell—”
“You got something wrong with your ears?” he interrupts. The stitches beneath his eyes sting, pulled taut by his glare. “I said no”.
Tereda sighs and turns to her screen, pushing her frames back up. The keyboard clicks under her fingers. Every computer here was ancient, their systems totally outdated, but they made do.
“You have two more options. The best results are produced if both treatments are done together,” she explains. “First is surgery. You’ll be put under general anaesthesia and the disease will be removed along with some surrounding tissue in the lungs for biopsy. Memories of the loved one are usually lost”.
Dabi slouched to feign disinterest, betrayed by the restless bounce of his knee, “And?”
“Your second option is to attend an interpersonal psychotherapy programme,” she lifts her hand to silence him before he can interject. “This is highly recommended to patients after surgery to prevent relapse. But you can do it regardless, as it is helpful in reducing your symptoms, and while the disease becomes chronic, it is more manageable”.
Dabi’s jaw shifts as he grits his teeth, pulling at the staples by his mouth, “Calling me fucking crazy now, eh Doc?”
“No,” she replies cooly, schooling her features into something kinder. “As people we underestimate the influence our mental well being has over our physical condition. Hanahaki disease is rare, yes. But over a quarter of all cases are found to be psychosomatic”.
Dabi laughs dryly and brings a fist down hard, smoke squeezed from between his knuckles marred the desk with black. “So this is of my own making, is that what you’re saying?”
“This isn’t something you plant into yourself, Dabi. It isn’t your fault and I could be completely wrong. I’m not all knowing, I’m just a doctor,” a smooth hand is placed over top of his own in effort to comfort, “But torturing yourself will only feed it”.
He scrambles to his feet, the chair legs scraping piercingly across the tile, and snatches his fist back to hold behind his back. The doctor levels him with a sad, soft look, her upper body still leaned across the table.
“If you leave this as it is it will only hurt you. It is already hurting you,” Tereda continues critically. “We can mitigate this, Dabi. Before it kills you”.
That unearths some ill-gotten memory from the recesses of his brain. A film strip he replays often in solitude; the day Endeavor sat him down and told him he shouldn’t use his quirk anymore. At first it was a fatherly suggestion, unnaturally low and soft. “You should stop. It’s hurting you, Touya,” as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
That never made sense to him. In training they used to focus on fire, usually— on intensifying his flame power— but on occasion they would spar. Between poor footing and wrong steps, Endeavour always reprimanded tears and quick surrender.
“But it hurts…”
“Strong heroes fight through pain,” he said. “The world does not stop just because you are crying. Get up! Or are you weak?”
Touya took it to heart, back then. Clenched his chubby little fists tight and got to his feet with a wobbly snarl on his damp, swollen face.
Young minds are impressionable and his own had already been moulded by the very hands on his shoulders. Endeavour’s fingers had held on tight, dwarfing Touya’s frame; heat soaking through his shirt from those searing palms and the sting of old wounds had been enough to keep him grounded in reality. You should stop this. It’s hurting you.
Those words festered and ate away at his soul like an infection. Giving up was against everything he knew— and against everything Endeavor told him a hero should be. It was not an option he was willing to take, and so Touya trudged forward, just as he was taught.
Eventually Endeavour’s words evolved into demand. He became furious. Touya became accustomed to long sleeves and learned how to treat burns alone. Hands made for saving left oval shaped bruises and finger painted the entire family.
How do you abandon something stitched into the very fabric of your being? Being the Number One hero was his hereditary purpose. His father gave up on him so readily but Touya would have rather died than surrender when it got tough. Giving it up would be dying all the same.
Pain was a toll necessary for growth. He grew until his ambition and greed swallowed him whole. And now, there was you. A garden of weeds in his lungs. You were rooted into the capillaries and harvesting his yearning. Every time he coughed it felt like self immolation; a cruel cycle he can not stop repeating.
Hanahaki discriminates. It happens to those who feel deeply, people whose hearts are hemmed by the ones they love. Dabi is selfish but more than that he is lonely, and you’re the one good thing he has in this shit hole.
Accepting the surgery would just be another loss. A surrender. It wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; Dabi is going to die either way. A walking corpse. Skin, esophagus, tear ducts, tissue— his fire burns all of it. Deep within him, eating away at his soft insides like dry grass. And what withstands that heat are the seeds you have unknowingly sown.
There is something disturbingly satisfying about carrying a piece of you to the grave with him, flowers proliferating around the earth that houses him. Call him twisted. It isn’t as if he’s unaware he’s got a few loose screws— he also has no desire to get better.
The silence is broken by the quiet scratch of pen to paper. Doctor Tereda offers a thin smile and slides a prescription across the table, signed and ready to be collected. “Here. This should help with the pain for at least a week or two. We know how easily you burn through medication so… don’t take too long to make your decision,” she hesitates before shaking her head. “And go to the emergency room if your breathing worsens”.
Dabi eyes her suspiciously, grabbing the slip and shoving it into his coat pocket. Worrying at his lower lip he offers her a short nod, the ‘thanks’ implied.
As he turns and makes his way toward the door, Dabi pauses just before turning the handle. He doesn’t look back as he mutters, “Keep this to yourself, yeah? That means no putting it on my records”.
Tereda hums curiously, “No one else has access to your records”.
He scoffed, turning his wrist and pulling the old door to demonstrate his point; a groan reverberates throughout the room as it opens, “Yeah right. This is hardly a fine establishment”.
“I resent that!”
Dabi strides through the familiar corridor toward the waiting room, ignoring Tereda’s indignant shout. He wasn’t off the mark about how shoddy the place is— atleast, in comparison to other medical centres. The building is small and narrow. It was built during the pre quirk era and handed off to the quirkless by the government to honour their status. The whole thing stank of ridicule and it pissed him off the more he thought about it.
You’re exactly where he expects you to be. Sitting pretty at your desk, twiddling your thumbs, keeping watch over the empty space and quietly mumbling some melody from Mount Lady’s latest hair care advert over the unremitting whirr of the fan above.
A laugh bubbles in his chest, drawing your attention, and it chokes him in effort to smother the sound. You are alarmingly predictable. There, plain as day on your computer screen, are his supposedly secure medical records.
Dabi pressed the heel of his hand to his sternum as he violently coughed. You’re talking to him now, on your feet and rubbing along his back. A viscous lump of petals forces its way into his throat and he feels his quirk react. Still, you don’t pull away.
“Deep breath,” God, that’d be nice. “You’re okay. I’ll get you some water,” Don't go.
You stop and let him drag you back by the wrist. He rights himself on his feet and forces the flowers down. “I’m—” bile stings the back of his mouth and he gags, turning his face into his coat collar to hide a grimace.
Dabi exhales and it sounds so thin. “Fuck. I’m fine. Don’t start,” he croaks, hardly convincing. Rooting through his pocket, he shoves his prescription slip forward to distract you, the paper crumpled into a small ball. “Doc gave me a prescription. It’s just a chest infection”.
He lingers and observes as you unwrinkle it. You’re careful to smooth out each corner and wrinkle. The tension swells as the silence stretches. He tempers the urge to snatch it back.
You squint at him, “A dosage this high for a chest infection?”
He shrugs and reaches over his head to yank his coat hood forward. “Doctor’s orders”.
After a beat, you relent and glance over to give him an exasperated smile, “Whatever. As long as it helps clear your lungs. You freaked me out last night with all that wheezing”.
You begin switching off your monitors, patting down at your pockets for the keys. To synchronise with the end of your shift, Dabi purposely chose the last appointment. That was another thing he has been doing a lot— trying to fit his life around yours.
“Watching me sleep now, perv?”
“Yeah. I love when a guy sounds like a punctured squeaky toy, really gets me worked up,” you drawl, falling in line with him after turning off the lights and checking the locks. Tereda would close up the rest.
You brought a tonal shift to his life he couldn’t have anticipated; enough that he regularly spent nights crashing on your couch to wait out the bad weather. There was something about you from the beginning that he couldn’t put a finger on. Nothing as simple as your attractiveness— you had a good heart, but not by society's standards, much like Twice.
A quick internet search would pull up listings of buildings he had burned and the trail of bodies left in his wake. But it didn’t matter. Villain, vigilante, hero, a person is a person, even him.
That first meeting, winter settling in, you admitted to him you were quirkless. A shitty olive branch effort, he’s sure. That whole instinctual radar that comes with being a misfit in this world. You left a strong impression. He recalls how he gave you the name Dabi, cackling harshly as if he were leaving you with a ticking time bomb, and you simply said: “Maybe I’ll see you again. Hopefully without all the blood, next time”.
He latched on and desperately wanted to hate you for it. Yet your arm is linking through his once again, pressed close to his side as the rain hammers down onto the empty street, and everything he can’t bring himself to say has taken root in his windpipe.
“Wanna come up?”
“For coffee?” he swipes his tongue over his teeth, raising a suggestive brow. Your offer is as innocent as it always is, and the sight of you flustered is as welcome as ever.
“Tea, actually,” is your poorly veiled response.
Dabi knows he’s getting too comfortable. You might be quirkless but you’re not stupid. Infact, at times you’re unsettlingly perceptive; his only mercy is that you are too nice to pry.
He should tell you ‘no’. Giran could probably set him up. He might even get away with crashing at the bar. Instead he says, “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be”.
Your apartment building is nothing to write home about. Slightly run down, maintained by residents rather than their pig landlords. It stands shorter than the neighbouring buildings, the entire right side eaten by withered wisteria. Nobody bats an eyelid at his appearance in a place like this.
Inside is a mirror of the outside. Unremarkable in every way, yet he feels remarkably at home. You go in first, kicking off your shoes without bothering to line them up, waddling to the narrow linen closet in the hallway. You’ve managed to cram a dryer right beneath the shelves, since there was barely any space elsewhere.
“I can grab you something to wear while I put our stuff on a spin”.
The rain sticks to his forehead, thin streaks of black dye running down his temple. Grinning, you hand him an old towel, already stained and fraying at the hem, “You look harmless like this. Like a wet cat”.
He pats carelessly at his face while shucking off his coat. The nerves are long dead and it’s painless. You squawk when the heavy fabric hits the genkan floor with a wet slap. “Dabi!”
“That’s what you get,” he rolls his neck and bends to untie his boots, the towel thrown over his shoulder. “Harmless. I burned down a money laundering front just a few hours ago”.
“I saw it on the news. You’re such a dickhead,” you laugh, heading into the kitchenette. “There was no good reason for you to melt the asphalt of that entire city block”.
A smile works its way onto his face. Gross. “Can’t have them mistaking me for a good guy”.
“You are a good guy”.
“You’re delusional,” he shoots back, an unbearable fondness swelling in his chest. The pressure is the worst part. Spools of vine and leafy green pierced into lung tissue, stems squeezing through his rib cage.
You’ve been staring at him for too long. That sweet smile hasn’t wavered. Dabi clears his throat, first to dispel the awkwardness he feels and then again as a stray petal sticks to his throat. It brushes against his tonsils and he quickly covers his mouth.
“Sure you’re okay?” your voice is quiet, testing the waters.
A fingernail catches on a staple by his chin as his hand drags down his face, answering on an exhale, “Fine. Stop asking. Didn’t you say something about tea?”
“Can’t help it,” you huff, shutting the overhead cupboard with too much force. "You’re not a good liar, you know”.
Dabi gives a dismissive wave and heads over to the couch. The distance is barely four strides but he manages to unbuckle his belt, jeans unbuttoned and falling loose around his hips. Kicking them off with little to no grace, your eyes are heavy on his back as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it at the laundry pile tucked away near your bathroom.
The quaint studio can barely house you, never mind him. Dabi was always small for his age but here it feels like he could stretch and touch every wall.
You’re moving in his periphery, following his lead and gradually revealing swaths of bare skin. You’ve seen him half naked before, in the clinic, but never the reverse. Dabi swallows thickly, ignoring the intimate atmosphere he unintentionally created. The kettle is electric and he takes comfort in the loud gurgling sound that comes with it, fixing his gaze on the blank TV screen.
“You can turn it on, you know. You are allowed,” you coaxed, voice warm and teasing. You’ve rummaged through the pile of clothes and found a hoodie that falls below your hips. “Or are you just going to sit there with your dick out?”
“You fucking wish,” he objected, reaching for the remote. Is it? His eyes fall to his lap. No, it isn’t.
He slouches, reclining into the cushions as some old rerun of Mighty Man plays. “Hey,” idly picking at a loose thread, he asks, “do you get many people come through with hanahaki?”
That gives you pause, and immediately he regrets asking. It’s hardly a common question. Hell, a good percentage of the population thought it to be an old wives tale, even in the wake of quirks. There was no plausible excuse as to why it would be on his mind.
Cautious in your approach, you stop by the couch with a steaming mug cradled in your hands. He sees those naked thighs, soft and uniquely yours. “Is… is that why you’ve been coughing?”
“No,” Dabi scoffs. In one forceful yank he rips the seam open and watches the foam innards spill out. You linger, weight shifting between your feet, and irritation prickles under his skin. “Who the hell do you think I would be chucking up flowers for? Not like I’ve got friends”.
Your shoulders lose tension and he tries not to think too hard about it; he doesn’t want to know. He feels his own airways clear at the sound of your laughter, “I dunno. Stain, maybe?”
Pursing his lips, he sucks back the copper from between his teeth, “Fuck you”. You try to smile. You pass his tea and he forgoes the handle. The warmth of the mug seemed to seep into his bones and ease the ache.
“Right right. Big bad villain. I forgot you’re supposed to be an empty husk without a heart,” you teased, sitting unnecessarily close and burying your feet beneath his thigh, careful not to touch his staples. The hoodie slips and pools around your hips. Dabi’s throat constricts as his body goes rigid. “Ah shit. Are my toes cold? Want me to grab a blanket?”
Forcing himself lax he clicks his tongue and tastes iron, grip tightening on his mug as he brings it to his lips. “Doesn’t matter. I run cold anyway”.
The tea is soothing. Sweet for a ginger tea— brown sugar, maybe. You must’ve boiled it for his sore throat. Molasses swirl on his tongue. They wash down the blood and clean his palette. A smooth, mellowed out aroma fills his senses and overpowers the delicate anise fragrance lingering at the back of his throat.
You concede, tucking your knees under your chin and regarding him with that look again. The one that feels as if you’re reading him like a page in a book. He has never been the type to worry about appearances but when it’s you he can’t help wondering what you think of him.
A cartoonish explosion fills the room with streams of orange and yellow as the episode comes to the halfway point. The light paints your silhouette gold, reflecting in your irises as they retract from the brightness.
Taking another gulp, he winced at the sharp twist in his chest. Two weeks was generous and Tereda knew it. He’s already vomiting full flowers. Corpses make for fertile soil, apparently. He read that somewhere online while he searched for information on morning glories; you are fast growing and frost tender.
A soft note breaks the silence and your toes start to wriggle. “I can hear you thinking. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Despite what you thought, he was a good liar. To those around him but most of all to himself. This is when he should retaliate with a biting comment and keep the equilibrium. He would, if not for the wave of heat that rolls through him at your words, and how obviously you felt it displace the air.
Dabi can lie. His body can not.
“Just that thing you said earlier, about being an empty husk,” he begins, bringing the warm mug to rest against his sternum, incognisant to the ring of heat stinging his skin.
Your expression wanes with regret and he hates it. “I was joking—”
“If you say sorry I’ll burn your couch to a crisp,” he fumes. Vulnerability made him defensive. Angry. It felt like cold air blowing on exposed muscle. “Didn’t ask for a meaningless apology”.
Deep in the cavity of his ribs another bud unfurls. Your patience with him is not endless but it is more than he deserves.
“Then what are you asking?”
Nausea curdled in his stomach. He feels it climb his gullet. “Guess I wondered what you really thought”.
“About…?”
He snarls, hackles raised. “Do I have to spell it out?”
A few beats pass. Your answer comes in a gentle murmur. “Well, our capacity to hate reflects our capacity to love. So, yeah. I do think you’ve got a pretty big heart. It’s just a bit bruised up”.
“Jesus,” he mutters. The worst part is you’re being entirely honest. His knees spread as his hips shift, the after credits begin to roll and reflect off the sutures around his thighs. It reminds him that he is half naked, literally and figuratively. “Forget I said anything. I need a smoke”.
“No smoking,” you bat lightly at his shoulder. “Not until you’re better. If I catch you I’ll kill you before that cough does”.
And isn’t that fucking hilarious.
Pressure prickles behind his eyes that he can never relieve. There’s a florid mass in his thoat; his pulse is thrumming now, singing in his ears. He needs to throw up.
You shout after him as he stumbles over toward your bathroom. He slams the door behind him, hears you curse as his ceramic mug hits the floor and breaks. This isn’t romance, or a fairytale. It isn’t like it is in the movies.
Lifting his fist, he brings it down hard on his sternum. The force barrels him over and he retches. Sour, viscous threads of saliva drip from his mouth into the toilet bowl, but nothing more comes up.
You’re banging at the walls. “Dabi, open up!”
Dabi lurches again, forcing a deep cough and watching a few small heart shaped petals dance in the air as they free fall. Again, collapsing to his knees, he can taste your ginger tea. He vomits a clump of bloomed morning glories, wrinkled and smooshed into a misshapen ball. Blood muddies the water.
Another knock, this one somewhat pitiful. There’s a soft noise that sounds like you’re sliding down the door. “Please don’t make me break this open. My landlord will kill me”.
Trembling. Dabi reaches his fingers into his mouth and feels around the teeth to dislodge what was left. Settling back on his feet, his hand uncurls like a slow sprouting shoot and reveals another morning glory in the shallow of his palm.
Colour streaks across his vision, filled with hazy undulations. White noise drowns out the frantic tone of your voice. Mouth hung open, Dabi inhales until his lungs bloat, and keeps it held until the lights begin to fade.
His consciousness tips from one dream to another. When he wakes up on his back surrounded by soft, freshly washed sheets. A sigh escapes his lips as he turns into the downy pillow beneath his head. It smells like you.
Fingers comb through his hair, pushing the bangs away from his forehead. It’s then that he notices the mattress dipped towards the weight of another.
Dabi squints, prying his eyes open. You’re laid beside him. At first he considers that he’s dreaming, but you feel so real. Your thumb strokes over his cheek in a tender back and forth motion, “You comfy?”
“Better than the couch,” he rasps. There’s an awful taste in his mouth. Intermingling mint and copper. “Did you brush my teeth or something?”
“I rinsed your mouth out,” you admit bashfully. Now that he’s looking he notices your eyes are red. Puffy like you’d been crying. Your smile fractured as you added, “I had to make sure nothing else was stuck”.
Realisation creeps in slowly. It’s gentle with him, like you are, acclimating him to reality. Just like that— you know.
“How’d you get me in here?” he deflects.
You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach to trace the topography of his scarred chest. His breathing stutters and your fingers stop right over his heart.
“Might’ve pulled a muscle or two but it wasn’t so hard. You weigh almost nothing,” you reply. Quiet, as though you were afraid to break the illusion. “Kinda concerning but it seems you have bigger stuff to worry about already, huh?”
Eyes falling closed, he inhales, counting to three. He replies on the end of a long exhale, “Didn't want you to know”.
“Tereda does?”
Dabi nods and the movement knocks his brain loose. He hisses at the throbbing pain. You take him into your palms with a frown, “You hit your head on the way down. You’ll have to come in with me again in the morning”.
“Fuck that,” he groans. You tap at his temple and pout your lips, glaring disapprovingly. “You can’t make me”.
“I can and I will,” his eyes widened at the crack in your voice. Tears gather along your lash line and you sniff harshly, “You could have died, Dabi. And now you might have a head injury. How the hell could you not tell—?!”
“Alright, alright. Shit,” uncharacteristic of him, Dabi let himself have this. His hand cups round your neck and brings you down into his bare chest. He hushes you softly, running his palm down the length of your spine, wrapping you in a clumsy embrace. “Don’t cry about it”.
You settle into the crook of his neck, nose bumping his jaw as you turn to speak, and he suppresses a shudder. “Don’t cry about it,” you repeat mockingly. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“Enlighten me”.
Frustration bursts, and you lift your head to look at him. You’re so close. “I care about you, idiot. I don’t want you dead on my bathroom floor! Sue me!”
Dabi cracks a crooked smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me”.
“Who is it?”
And he sours, his stare fixed on the ceiling above. “Does it matter?”
“It matters,” you lean over him until all he can see is you. “…Is it me?”
There’s an echo in his ribs; a phantom knife’s twist. Sure, Dabi is a good liar, he thinks. Touya never was. Touya wore his heart on his sleeve. He was terrible at concealing his hurt. Dabi tries to find the words and comes up short.
The silence is answer enough. Your mouth wobbles and you nestle back into his neck before he can see you cry in earnest. “You are so fucking stupid, Dabi”.
Despite the seriousness he laughs, tucks his nose to your crown and tightens his hold around your waist. He’s only ever imagined what your weight would feel like pressed against him like this. Maybe he’s imagining it, but his lungs are lighter.
“What did Doctor Tereda advise you to do?”
He pouts where you cannot see it. He doesn’t want to think about that quack right now. “She told me either I get the surgery and go to therapy, or I get the symptoms to calm down with therapy on its own”.
“Of course you’d…” you huff. “She didn’t tell you to talk to me?”
“That too,” he shrugs, grinning at the warning press of your teeth to his throat. It’s disturbing how comfortably you both fell into place. A soft kiss replaces your bite, and he holds his breath.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him, kisses trailing up his jugular to his cheek, unperturbed by the scar tissue and metal in his skin, or the tremors rumbling through his body. “I’m sure there’s no way in hell I can get you to agree to therapy. So instead I’m going to take you out on a few dates and see how your symptoms change”.
Dabi’s mouth opens for air and your lips brush, stealing his breath. “What the fuck?” he says. “Why?”
There’s no point, he wants to tell you. It won’t change a thing.
“Because I want you to believe me,” you murmur, nose knocking his own. Inexplicably drawn to you, Dabi tilts up to align your mouths again, barely a kiss. “If you die it won’t be because of me. And I atleast want you to go out knowing that I love you too”.
The swell in his throat is different this time. He has never been so glad about his inability to cry. Dabi grins, wide and all teeth, pushing the staples in his cheeks up by his eyes. “There’s something really wrong with you, you know that?”
“No kidding,” you laugh. “Guess we make a good pair”.
424 notes
·
View notes
Note
Now that it’s a well-established fact that I live in a perpetual chan brainrot, here’s some hard dom! Channie that had been away at tour for months turning back to pleasure dom! Channie once he sees the your bones being much more prominent than before because I’m an insecure little bitch who just needs some comfort but doesn’t have any irl. I missed flooding your inbox with my ramblings lol
The origins for this come from the average brainrot texts I send my bestie, which quote-unquote today was:
I want christopher to ask me to open up big and wide for him and show my tongue out, have him grab it and say, “my throat, my tongue, my plaything and my little fuck toy, and i get to do whatever i want with it and it doesn't get to make a single noise. I hope my rag doll understands that yeah?”
Now you see, Chan does have a tiny thing with anger, but over the years he has managed to learn to know where he must keep it in, public appearances, at the company, broadcasts and anywhere else he needs. But getting rid of that fury that he feels when things don’t go his way a bit too much for a period long enough for him to be raging with clenched fists becomes a problem. This, is kinda where you step in, his problem solver, his savior, his girl. Even after coming back from tour, his work had him preoccupied to the point that an hour at the company twice the past week was all you’d gotten from him. You didn’t have many complaints tho, you knew he’d come around eventually, but the slow buildup of his frustration was kinda concerning for you could see it right through.
Chan wanted his girl with him and this was as straightforward as it could get. It wasn’t fair for you to cum only over videocall with him and he’s gone too long without feeling your throat and your cunt around his dick and his hand just doesn’t cut it anymore. He needs to hold you, he needs your skin on his, your mouth on him, he needs you in your flesh, atleast for a few days if not for the forever he wishes he could have.
In plain words, at the 2-week mark of him being back, chan snapped.
The track wasn’t coming along the way he wanted, the company had more feedback than he’d like for the new album concept, he hadn’t been able to workout, his hair won’t go the way he wanted to, and everything felt plain wrong. He’d thought that maybe talking to you would help him but your replies had been a bit too short for him to believe everything was right and you being the avid masker you were, chan really couldn’t figure out what was wrong because you just refused to give it away. Chan felt like he couldn’t reach you anymore and it made him disappointed and livid at his own circumstance in equal proportions. What really pushed his buttons was when you asked him to stay at the dorms instead and rest when he’d probably just be coming back running to yours if he could. That was it, chan was livid and as much as he wanted to feel sorry for you to be at the receiving end of things, he knew how much you’d love him like this, from well previous.. encounters.
Chan opens the door to your apartment and slams it shut behind him, clothing and everything coming off from the moment he’s in the hallway. He looks for you everywhere to find you on your desk in your bedroom, getting through with some work mails, clad in a bit too large of a button up and underwear, and chan’s shorts maybe just feel a bit uncomfortable.
Clearly taken aback from the sudden intrusion, your eyes widen up a bit when you look up at him, and before you could ask him about his sudden appearance, he just silently makes his way to your bed and sits down by the edge of it. When you turn in your chair to look at him, he’s resting on his left palm behind him, right hand beckoning you over.
“can you come here for me baby?”
You obey, the “dark aura surrounding chan when he’s mad” theory proving itself to its uttermost extent and you know what might be coming your way, which you’d gladly accept any time.
“on your knees baby, mouth wide and open for me”
You do as you’re told, but when you’re about to remove your glasses, chan’s orders for you to keep them on, give you an inkling of how pent up he’d been, with the slight tremble of his palm when it was against your cheek, asking you to open up nice and wide for him and to show him your tongue. Chris did notice the lack of the usual chubbiness of your cheek, your facial bones much more prominent under his big palm, but he chose not to comment then, storing it for later. Your tongue out and spread for him distracts him again which he grabs between his thumb and index finger,
“my throat, my tongue, my plaything and my little fuck toy, and i get to do whatever I want with it and it doesn't get to make a single noise. I hope my rag doll understands that yeah?”
You nod simply, the power of speech taken away from you quite literally. Chan’s heavy cock lays against your tongue, and chan checks with you once more while intertwining his hand with yours, and you squeezing it back giving him the reassurance he needed to go on. And he does, hard.
Chan shoves his cock deep down your throat in a very quick move, making you gag with the intensity but it not being something you couldn’t handle or haven’t done before. Tears form up in your eyes and which you presume from the push of his dick against the back of your throat and so does he, but you loose track of when they become actual tears, result of the heavy weight on your chest you felt everytime you saw a mirror in the past 2 months. Not skinny enough, not pretty enough, not good enough was all you’d hear in your head everytime you caught your reflection. You hold back your tears as best as you could and you seem to do a good job at it when you look at your boyfriend with his eyes shut close and head lolled back in pleasure. He finishes finally, leaving his essence down your throat and pulls out, stroking away the tears that had formed streaks down your cheeks, and decided to not stop, without the physical force of chan being down your throat. The tears come down in full force and don’t stop and chris mentally slaps himself hard enough to cause a concussion, in his head for not checking in with you verbally earlier. He picks you up from where you were in your spot and sits you down onto his lap, hand stroking your back and other hand moving up and down your thigh to soothe you is when it hits him.
He realizes that he’s done enough of making presumptions for the night and asks you, “ what is it baby? What’s gotten my pretty girl so upset? What’s wrong ?” when you reply with a “just missed you that’s all” , Chan realizes you’re not going to give in easily this time. He lets you cry a bit more, holding you, cradling our head against his chest, comforting you to his best but to no avail. There’s only one way he thinks could work his way now.
“little one? Can daddy see his pretty girl for a second? He has a question.”
You finally look up at him, though still scared if he’s still not going to be happy with you and if he’s just about to leave back to the dorms to leave you alone, if he finally realised how he could have someone better and how disgus-
“where did daddy’s friends go baby?”
You definitely did not expect that, and your sound of confusion had made it clear to him that he had to continue. “ you see love, I had some good friends here, around your pretty tummy, around your thighs, your gorgeous face, your beautiful arms, so squishy and so so cute. I know you were going to the gym but it’s unbelievable to me for them to go away this quickly angel, and you never said anything about them either, tell me what’s going on hm?” Chan almost winces in pain when he feels the bones around your hips that he hadn’t ever before, and your tears well up again. Chan thinks he might be hearing things when you say you thought he’d like you better this way and he’d like you more if you looked better for him but one look in your eye and he knows whatever he hears, is very much real, and all of the past few months and the signs he missed come crashing down to him.
“Gorgeous? look at me?”
Your glazed eyes look into his brown ones before he continues “ angel, I love your body regardless of anything. And I mean anything. I love you for you hm? And your amazing body is a part of you and I can’t not love anything about you. Daddy loves everything your body has, your pretty plush thighs, your tummy rolls, your squishy arms, your chubby cheeks, everything. If you want to change the way you look I’ll be by your side through it, but if its for what you just said, I’d not change a nanometre about you lovely. Can I show my pretty girl how much she means to me now?”
A nod too quick and Chan turns you around in his hold, getting rid of your underwear for you and praising every inch of your skin that he could grab on. ” Pretty mole, pretty spot, gorgeous stretch marks, don’t you think they look like rivers baby? Such a magnificent fucking body and how dare your head let you think so low of it? My beautiful fucking queen, my majestic woman” Chan’s words had you tearing up again, but from happiness, and your tears fell free again. When you reassure him it was you being happy, Chan holds your head against the crook of his neck, lining you up against him, teasing your drippy slit with it, and sinking you down on his cock. You tried to move up but your man’s grip stopped you from moving an inch. Chan shifts back on the bed with you in his hold and brings his knees up, making you look at him once again.
“let me do all the work baby, I need to make sure every fibre of your being knows how madly in love I’m with you”
I shall now go to sleep and wake up to the consequences of this madness later
yours faithfully
-💌
Wow- I’m actually speechless and crying….. thank you?
I loveeeeeeeeee angsty smut it’s some of my favorite fics/drabbles to read. This one hit extra hard though, more so than others, and the comfort????? It’s so good :( everything about this is perfect bubby, thank you so much for sharing this with me <3
#💌-Sarah’s Inbox#💌 anon#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#bang chan smut#bangchan smut#bang chan
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
okkkk i watched the first episode of hazbin hotel and i think it has a lot of missed potential. there are actually quite a few goods - the animation for the most part is nice, the voice acting is great (especially keith david as the cat thing), and the songs are alright. the show brings up interesting concepts but the main problem is that it doesn't really execute them in an interesting way, mainly due to the way the characters are written.
every character - with the exception of alastor, charlie and nifty - has a generally "vulgar" personality, ranging from that being a primary trait to basically the entire character (based on the 1st episode alone). they're all written in a similar way, which means that character interactions are very basic funnyman/straightman endeavors with little variation - angel dust says something dumb and vaggie chatises him, or angel dust says something sexual and husk chatises him. that formula basically extends to most if not all of their interactions so far, so the dynamics between characters are similar and frankly uninteresting. angel dust especially (i really don't like him sorry) is so far just a vessel for sexual jokes, and we don't really get anything from his character other than "he's horny", which isn't really good for your first episode imo. the language the characters use is also similar so there's little humorous contrast. there aren't really "jokes" with setup and payoff - just characters saying and doing out of pocket things.
the worst example of this is with the angels, particularly adam. i think that the angel with him (lute i think?) would actually serve his purpose in the story better based on her character - somewhat regal, orderly, but most importantly uses a completely different language to the devils. this sort of contrast would've been way more interesting imo - have the angels be holier-than-thou (quite literally), talk charlie down, make her feel less than or even like a "sinner" - which would be cool because as far as i can tell charlie tries her best to be as good as possible! that would be a unique way to bring out her angry side but instead adam just acts like any other devil, even worse than them, and maybe that's on purpose but i don't think it's very cool...... it would be fun to play off the watcher's preconceived notions and ideas on angels and devils after establishing how charlie deviates from the norm, maybe even having the angels be like "wow you lashing out proves devils are all evil", but now i'm rambling...
other than that, i think the story introduces its main plot points too early. give the concept some time to breathe and establish itself before dropping the bombshell that the extermination is to be 6 months early, damn,,, but i'd have to watch every episode to give an opinion on how they handle that, which i likely won't do. i have some small nitpicks, like the weird lack of buildup to most songs and the kind of weird pacing, but in short, based on the first episode, it's just a compilation of missed opportunities and edgy swear-humor offset by some genuinely interesting and good ideas. this isn't a review of the entire series, by the way - just a "initial thoughts" thing. if you really are interested in the concept, i'd say give it a chance, but please be aware of the creator's actions before you support it monetarily. (i watched the first episode through other means as i genuinely dislike the creator due to her bigotry, of which others have described more eloquently than me - it's very easy to find "call-outs" and critiques of her actions). 4/10, where is verblase :/
#zeno's movie diary#(technically......? idk its a review)#long post#ALSO if i was a random prime user who had never heard of hazbin i'd be so fucking confused by this episode#the pilot is essentially an episode 0 and required viewing but this is never really established#there's hardly even a sort of re-introduction for long time viewers#ok thats my LAST NITPICK#there done get yhis shit out of my face now
58 notes
·
View notes
Note
heyyyy, I don't know if you have open requests but, I would really like a Danny who falls in love with the reader, (preferably female but I'm ok with gn) and stalks her for months until he finally has the courage to declare himself, a smut ending possible,(sorry for any mistakes english is not my language) thank you for your attention ❤.
Watching you, Loving you || Danny Johnson
Thank you for your request! Apologies for how long it took me to write this lol, life has been a pain lately! If I made any mistakes, feel free to shoot another request pointing them out and I will gladly fix them! I hope you enjoy!
Afab! Reader. Warnings: stalking, reader paranoia, riding, overstimulation, switch!reader,switch!Danny. Danny cums too quickly. Not much buildup until the 'deed', reader is not prepped in any way.
You could feel someone watching you. Deep within the entitys dark forest you felt a pair of eyes on you. It had to be paranoia. There was no way a killer got to the survivors' side of the realm. The eyes were growing closer with each passing second, you could feel the piercing stare growing even stronger.
It's not real... Ignore it.
It wasn't easy to avoid, though. Even as you rush into your shack, slamming the door behind you, it did nothing to ease your growing panic.
Watching you from the cold, dead forest was Danny. His dark, piercing brown eyes watching you from behind his mask. You looked perfect, as always. The sight of you always sent an adrenaline rush through Danny. He had countless photos of you strewn all throughout his shack; polaroids of you doing things such as generators, totems, saving your team... Even some of you changing, touching yourself.
But none of those photos compared to the real thing.
As Danny watches you rush into your shack, he knows that now is his time to act. You were alone, and there was no way Danny could hide how he felt any longer. He loves you, and whether you reciprocated those feelings or not, he needed to tell you.
He snuck in behind you, following you to your bedroom. When you turn to close the door, you're greeted with the sight of Ghostface leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He didn't seem to have his weapon on him, which did... little to ease your worry and surprise.
"You look ike you've seen a ghost."
Danny's voice was like nothing you've ever heard before--husky, yet had an air of amusement behind it. Though muffled by his mask, you couldn't say it wasn't attractive. You shake the thoughts away, stuttering out a response.
"W-What are you... How did you- What?" Danny laughs at your pathetic attempt at a question, stepping into your room and closing the door behind him. "To see you, of course." He answers, saying this like it was obvious. He takes another step forwards, leaving only a few inches between you two as he reaches a gloved hand towards your face. He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing your soft skin. Your face flushes at the sudden contact and you take a step away from Danny.
"You're so beautiful, doll... Anyone ever tell you that?" You can't believe this is happening. Sure, you've always had a thing for Ghostface--specifically his mask. You would always find yourself admiring him from afar, but you never imagined yourself in this situation.
"Cat got your tongue?" Danny teases, chuckling behind his mask. He's quick to close the space you had made between him, his hand returning to your cheek. Danny turns your head, forcing you to look at him. You finally speak up, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Ghostface, I-"
"Danny. Call me Danny." Danny interrupts, bringing his hands to his mask and removing it. His hair was short, dark, and messy from the hood he always wore. He had piercing brown eyes, a strong jawline, and genuinely looked better than any of the survivors. "Danny..." You didn't even know what to say. This made Danny chuckle again, and he takes a step toward you. You step away, the back of your knees hitting your bed and causing you to fall. Danny catches you by your wrist, gently setting you down on the bed.
"Falling for me already? Y'know, doll, I fell for you the second I saw you. Who wouldn't fall in love with a face like yours? A body like yours? You're fucking perfect, y/n." You were so lost in Danny's confession that you hadn't noticed him beginning to lean over you, practically pinning you to the bed. His face was inches from yours, his voice a husky whisper as he spoke.
"Can I kiss you?" Danny asks suddenly. You nod more eagerly than you were expecting. "Please..." Danny smirks at the neediness in in your tone, leaning in and pressing his lips against against yours. The kiss was passionate at first, but it wasn't long until your tongues were fighting for dominance--Danny easily winning that battle. A quiet moan escapes your lips, your hands gripping the front of Danny's cloak tightly. Though you tried to ignore it, fearing Danny would judge you, you could feel a growing heat in your core as you and Danny made out.
Eventually, Danny pulled away for air. "God, baby... you're a natural at this." He praises, panting as he caught his breath. He stared down at you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze flicking from your slightly parted lips to the hands clutching his cloak. "How far do you want this to go?" Danny asks in a surprisingly soft tone. You knew deep down exactly how far you wanted to go, but the question still managed to leave you flustered.
"I..." You look away, your cheeks red with embarrassment. Danny simply nods, placing a soft kiss to your cheek. "If I asked you to ride me, would you?" A surprised squeak escapes your lips, your eyes going wide as a jolt of arousal shot through you. Danny wanted you to ride him? You haven't had sex in ages, yet you still found yourself nodding in response. "I would..."
This seems to please Danny, who pulls away and lays down next to you. The tent in his pants was obvious, nor was it little. You gulp, biting down on your lip to contain your excitement. Danny speaks up, groaning as his gloved hand reaches down to palm his erection.
"C'mon then, dollface. Ride me." His tone changed drastically, from soft to demanding within seconds. You were quick to remove your pants and soaked panties, too aroused to even care about your top. Danny does the same, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough to free his thick, veiny cock. Precum was already leaking from his tip, rolling down a vein on his shaft. Your clit throbbed for attention-- you have never wanted relief so badly in your life.
"You don't know how long I've wanted this..." Danny whispers, moaning quietly as you get on top of him, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. The sight alone was enough to further Danny's arousal, his hands gripping your waist as he lowered you down onto his dick. You gasp at the sudden feeling, a strangled moan slipping through your lips as Danny's cock streches out your tight cunt.
"F-fuck... you feel so good, y/n..." Danny did nothing to muffle the loud moans and whimpers that left him as you began to move. Much like you, Danny hasn't done anything like this since before the entity took him, and even though you had just started--Danny already felt close.
"God--babydoll... slow down- too close..." You ignore his plea, a wave of confidence flooding through you as you ride his cock. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. Danny moans louder than ever, tossing his head back against the pillows as his hands gripped your hips tighter.
"D-Don't wanna cum yet- y/n..." You shush him, slapping your hands over his mouth. His cock felt amazing, twitching inside of you and hitting your cervix with each thrust. While Danny was the loudest between you two, you were still practically screaming his name. Danny couldn't hold himself off any longer. He was a babbling, whimpering mess as he warns you of his upcoming orgasm.
"Y-y/n-! Gonna cum- please- cumming!" Danny's mouth falls open in a silent moan as he reaches his end, his hot cum filling you as his hips stutter and buck up into you. You weren't finished yet, and despite how fucked out Danny looked, you kept going. You shoot Danny a wink, chuckling and moaning loudly. The overstimulation running through Danny was almost too much to handle, but it felt too good to stop.
Danny knew he was in for a long night.
#dead by daylight#danny johnson#ghostface dbd#ghostface x reader#dbd smut#ghostface x y/n#ghostface#danny johnson dbd#danny johnson smut
239 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
